Private Smuggler's Swap

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Corellia

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Another dead end. Another datapad full of encrypted garbage. Acier leaned back against the flaking wall of the alley, one boot propped up, the other flat on grimy duracrete. The datapad sat cold and silent in his hand, screen black, encrypted, stubborn. He'd burned through one contact on Nar Shaddaa, and a week's worth of credits chasing this lead.

He tilted the device. Nothing. Not even a fragment of metadata to hold onto. The datapad clicked shut. He stared at it, thumb tapping restlessly along its edge. He wasn't angry, not yet, but something in his chest felt sharp and ready. This one had felt different. This one had felt close. Like, maybe, he'd find the missing piece that would help put all the clues together. The Peridean bone spindle, the name Vayun, the woman in the red sash - his mother...? All of it.

But alas, he was simply back to square one. Rookie mistake, Moonbound he thought to himself. Ace had been around the block so many times, he was no stranger to the machinations of the underworld - he was raised in it. How the hell could he let some con artist get one over him like this? It was embarrassing.

He flipped the datapad in his hand, debating whether to crack it against the wall or cut it in half with his lightsaber. Just for catharsis. Then movement caught his ear. Someone was coming down the alley. Not in a hurry. Not lost. Acier didn't shift, but his posture subtly reset, weight rolling forward off the wall, lightsaber still dormant at his side.

Was this person friend or foe?

Kinley Pryse
​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

She plays dirty, but somehow always walks away clean
​

Click-clack. Her boots echoed off the alley walls—slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that said she had no reason to rush and every reason to be feared.

"Well, well… that datapad looks one temper tantrum away from becoming modern art."

She strolled in, smooth as spice smoke, stopping just shy of arms' reach, close enough to make someone twitch. Her hand lingered near her jacket pocket, like it knew the shape of a blaster grip a little too well. Her gaze flicked to Acier, then down to the useless datapad like it had personally insulted her.

"You've been fishing in the wrong swamp," she said, reaching into her coat. She pulled out a datapad nearly identical to his, just as dead, just as stubborn, and handed it to him like it was an old joke they were both tired of hearing.

"It happens."

Then she leaned against the crumbling wall, mimicking the posture he'd held before she arrived, and popped a toothpick into her mouth with practiced indifference.

"Could use a second pair of eyes tracking down that double-crossing sleemo who sold me that piece of junk. You in?"


Acier Moonbound

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Corellia

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

A visually striking character appeared before him. Hat, scarf, jacket, almost like a gimmick. Not to say it was a bad thing, it was an interesting look and definitely something he didn't see too often. She stopped a little too close, but Ace didn't move. He simply stared her down with a blank expression which masked his complete bewilderment.

When she spoke, she gave off a demeanor he was all too familiar with. Laid-back and not a care in the world, even when you'd suffered the most annoying kind of setback.

"You've been fishing in the wrong swamp,"

"Sounds like you might know something about it." he said in response.

And as if on cue, Ace's eyes lowered to her jacket as the woman reached into her pockets. He didn't reach for his lightsaber, not sensing any type of foul play from her. She pulled out a datapad indentical to his own. Yep, they'd both been duked. A dry chuckle of disbelief escaped him, and he shook his head as he took the datapad from her.

"Could use a second pair of eyes tracking down that double-crossing sleemo who sold me that piece of junk. You in?"

Ace turned to her, eyeing her up and down with a raised brow. Then, a smirk formed on the edge of his lips.

"You're either really trusting, or really stupid." Ace declared "We just met and you wanna work together?"

He let the words hang in the air for a moment, studying her reaction. Cool, calculating, trying to figure out which part of her offer was real and which was bait. Finally, he shrugged.

"But, sure. Payback sounds good."

Ace rolled the datapad over in his hand again, inspecting it like he might will it to cooperate. He tapped the side of the casing once, then twice. Thought about pulling out his slicer rig... before remembering he didn't have one on him Of course he didn't. He'd followed the lead too fast, hadn't thought he'd need it.

"I could slice it." he said, glancing over at her "But, I don't have the gear on me. Need a signal isolator, couple reroute clamps, probably a heat sink just to keep it from frying mid-decrypt."

He handed her back her datapad before shoving his own into his backpack.

"Unless you've got a mobile slicing rig in that nice coat..." he paused "We're gonna need a workshop. Or, maybe someone that owed you a favor. You look like the type."

He took a few steps toward the alley way exit before stopping in place, glancing back at her.

"Name's Acier, by the way." Then he continued on.

Kinley Pryse
​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

If the Credits are good, So is Her Aim​

"You're either really trusting, or really stupid." Ace declared "We just met and you wanna work together?"

Kinley grinned around her toothpick. The kid had spunk. She liked that. Liked it even more when he studied the datapad and figured he might be able to slice into it, with the right tools and a halfway decent place to work.

"We're gonna need a workshop. Or, maybe someone that owed you a favor. You look like the type."

That could be arranged. Kinley had a talent for getting what she wanted. From people. From systems. From locked doors and loose lips. She nodded and jerked her chin down the street. "Aye. Come on."

They fell into step. He introduced himself as they walked, which caught her slightly off-guard. Most of her business partners didn't deal in names, just creds, contraband, and plausible deniability. But he moved like one of those lightsaber-swinging do-gooder types, all silent training and coiled restraint. She figured a little formality wouldn't kill her.

"Kinley" she said simply.

They wove through one street, then another. Her gait was casual, easy, like she had nowhere important to be, but her eyes were sharp, scanning every corner. Corellia wasn't Nar Shaddaa, and that put her on edge. The chaos of the Smuggler's Moon? That she understood. There was a certain honor among criminals. Predictability. But here? Civilians smiled too wide, talked too clean, and hid their sins behind polished doors.

Kinley trusted killers more than citizens.

A few blocks later, they arrived at a swoop bike that looked like it had been dragged out of a scrapyard and rebuilt with attitude and spite. Which, to be fair, it had. She swung a leg over the seat, fished into her duster, and pulled out a second pair of goggles. She handed them to the kid.

He looked young, but worn, like life had chewed on him early and never quite let go. For a half-second, something stirred in her chest. Something that felt dangerously close to sympathy.

Weird.

"You ever hear of the Gilded Descent? That's where we are heading. And no, I'm not kidnapping you. Probably."

The swoop engine rumbled to life.

Acier Moonbound

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Corellia

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

They walked in relative silence for a little whilte, just the sound of their boots on weathered stone, the hum of city life bleeding in from cleaner streets nearby. She moved like she had nowhere to be, but her eyes were sharp, always watching. She hadn't said much and Ace wouldn't press. He knew how these things went.

Eventually, she finally offered her name. Kinley. It was short and simple. He didn't get the sense it was a cover name. Ace didn't respond right away. He was still feeling her, not through words, but through the Force.

She walked easy, but something inside her was chipped at the edges. Coiled tight, like someone who'd been holding too much for too long. He sensed survival instincts, sharp, honed. But it was layered under that was something softer. Faint. Not weak, just buried deep beneath years of keeping her chin up and her blaster closer.

Seemed that a lot of people he met carried that, or something similar. Ace had met killers who slept soundly and saints who didn't. Kinley walked somewhere in the middle. And that, somehow, made her interesting.

A few turns later, the pair finally reached Kinley's swoop. Ace slowed, eyes narrowing slightly as his mechanic mind analyzed the swoop bike in front of him. The thing was barely holding itself together. Weld seams everywhere. A coolant line rerouted through a busted exhaust port. Stabilizers patched with scrap. It looked like five different bikes had gotten into a bar fight and this was what walked out.

He crouched slightly, running a glance along the repulsor lift. It really shouldn't be running... but he'd seen crazier things. Then he scoffed to himself, quietly.

Classic swoop. All attitude, no balance. He thought.

Ace preferred speeders. Sleek, responsive, less likely to kill you if you blinked wrong. But he didn't say that, he just took the goggles she handed him with a shrug and swung a leg over.

"Gilded Descent. Nah" he said over the roar of the engine "And you wouldn't be able to kidnap me if you tried." Ace added, a smirk tugging at his lips.

His hands didn't touch her waist, just gripped the back bracket of the seat, posture upright and distant. Boundaries... or trust issues. Probably both. The engine growled beneath them, and for a moment, he just let the sound wash over him. It was a welcome distraction from the tangle in his chest: the datapad, the name Vayun, the trail of dust his mother had left behind.

Kinley Pryse
​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

If you hear her say 'Trust me,' run. Or kiss your creds goodbye​

"And you wouldn't be able to kidnap me if you tried."

Kinley couldn't help but chuckle at the kid's moxie. She wasn't exactly in the kidnapping business, not professionally, anyway. But she had her eye on a bounty hunter gig that might just dig her out of debt. If she could ever crawl far enough out of Black Sun's shadow, that was. For now, crime paid just enough to keep the engine running. So she drove like it, reckless, fast, barely clinging to control. The kind of ride that left pedestrians swearing in her wake. She just grinned and leaned harder into the throttle. With the wind tearing through her hair, she felt like she could breathe, really breathe. And in those brief, violent seconds, the old Kinley surfaced. The one who had dreams. The one who wasn't just clawing through the day to survive.

Too soon, the neon glare of The Gilded Descent loomed ahead, a casino with more secrets than security cameras. The owner wasn't Black Sun, not exactly, but close enough to play the game. Kinley hadn't leaned on them too hard, not yet. They were still useful.

She parked the bike and swung off in one fluid motion, nodding for Acier to follow. Inside, the casino pulsed with glitz and noise, slot machines screaming, lights strobing, credits clinking. A few bouncers gave her the nod as she passed, the kind of look reserved for known trouble. She returned it with a tip of her hat, weaving through the chaos until they reached the bar.

She took a seat like she owned it and jerked her chin for Acier to do the same. The bartender eyed them, cautious. Kinley tipped her hat low.

"Ranz in?"

The bartender's mouth tightened into a hard line. He didn't answer, just hit the call button beneath the counter. Kinley smiled and slid over a stack of credits, far too many for a drink.

"The usual. And whatever the kid's having."

Their drinks arrived, hers a mocktail dressed to pass for the real thing, an old habit. Props made an image, and the image made her safe.

They settled into the wait, quiet but tense. Finally, she turned to Acier.

"So," she said, casually sipping, "what was supposed to be on that datapad, anyway?"

Acier Moonbound

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Corellia

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Kinley drove like she was in some imaginary swoop race. He could feel the engine's vibration bleeding through the seat and up into his spine. But when he glanced forward, caught sight of the wind tugging at her hair, the slight grin playing at the edge of her mouth... he realized she wasn't just showing off. She was enjoying herself. It was like someone who, for once, could breathe. Ace looked away after that. Gave her the space to have this moment.

By the time they pulled up outside the Gilded Descent, Ace had a new respect for his cardiovascular system. He slid off the swoop and shook out his shoulders, casting a glance up at the flickering neon sign. Remaining silent, he simply followed Kinley inside the casino. Kinley moved like she belonged here. Bouncers clocked her with the kind of nod that said don't start anything you can't finish.

When she took a seat at the bar, he lingered for half a second before sitting beside her. Not out of hesitation... just habit. Watch your flanks. Sit where you can see the exit. Don't turn your back in places like this. The bartender gave them a look, and Kinley handled it. Quick exchange. Quiet credits.

"Scarif Slush." Ace said after Kinley basically gave him free reign to get whatever.

Hers arrived disguised as something stronger. His came colored orange, white, and green, garnished with chilled chunks of tropical fruit and ice. He didn't care it it wasn't aloholic or 'childish'. He liked the taste.

They waited in silence for a while, just the low thrum of synth music and the hum of half a thousand secrets being whispered across the casino. Then Kinley broke it.

Ace blinked at her, then raised a brow. For someone like Kinley, that was pretty nosey of her, right? He thought that, for types like them, it was unspoken law not to ask personal info.

"Kinda forward." He responded, bringing the rim of his glass to his lips.

He didn't look at her, just the reflections in the mirror behind the bar. He could see her there: calm, collected, mocktail in hand. Listening. Ace considered dodging, lying maybe. But she'd brought him here. Put some credits on the table. Didn't try to sell him out, not yet.

"Just a name." He finally answered. "Maybe a location. Or both."

Taking another swig, he finally turned to meet her gaze. Smirking.

"I'm not no kid by the way. Seen and done way too much to be called that."

Ace averted his gaze for a moment. It wasn't defensive, or some sort of typical act of teenage rebellion. It was... just a fact. Then he glanced over at her again, smirk unwavering.

"Since we're sharing our dirty secrets now. What about your datapad?"

Kinley Pryse ​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley Pryse once outbluffed a Hutt, outshot a bounty hunter, and outdrank a Wookiee. In one night.​

Kinley had to admit it but this punk was growing on her. Not that she had the luxury of friends these days. But maybe, in another life, they could've been. When he pointed out that she was being forward, she just shot him a knowing grin. Guilty as charged. Most of her days were spent surrounded by people she barely knew, let alone trusted. So what made this whippersnapper stand out? She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She chuckled when he bristled at being called a kid.

"Sorry, you're just so… young."

Maybe it was envy, just a little. The kind that creeps in when you're staring at someone who still has time and opportunity stretched wide open in front of them. He didn't look untouched by life, no but still. Youth had a thrill to it that didn't come back once it was gone. When he asked about her datapad, she smirked. Who's being forward now? Still, behind the dry humor, her eyes flickered with something lighter. She was enjoying this.

"A name," she said, tilting the datapad so he could see. "Turns out our double-crosser has a bit of a specialty."

Just then, the bartender returned, rapping his knuckles on the bar before giving a subtle jerk of his head. A side door had opened. A massive Wookiee bouncer waited beyond it, arms crossed like a durasteel wall. Not exactly a welcome mat, but Kinley had seen worse.

"Come on."

She slid off her stool, and together they moved past the Wookiee, down a narrow, dim hallway. Kinley walked like she knew the place by heart. Eventually, the corridor opened into a plush lounge, draped in purple velvet and dim lighting that made everything feel half a secret. A Rodian stepped forward, arms wide but his eyes were anything but welcoming.

"Pryse! Welcome to my little slice of paradise! Come in, come in… Can I get you a drink?"

Kinley raised her mocktail without breaking stride. "Hi, Dorik. Let's skip the pleasantries. I need to borrow your workshop."

Dorik's smile tightened. "I see… And what for, exactly?"

"Hobby," she replied.

He stared. She didn't flinch but just stood there, slouched casually, sipping her drink, eyes locked on his like a predator waiting for the twitch.

Finally, he spoke. "Well, the thing is—"

"Let's skip the part where you pretend Flint doesn't own your sorry hide." Her voice was smooth, but razor-sharp. "His donations are the only thing keeping this place from collapsing in on itself. So I can call him... or I can disappear into your workshop for a few hours and be gone. Your call."

Dorik's nostrils flared. If looks could kill, Kinley would be a smear on the carpet. But after a beat, he stepped aside and gestured toward a reinforced door in the back.

"She's all yours."

She gave him a curt tip of the hat and led Acier through.

Inside, the workshop was tight but well-stocked, exactly the kind of place where someone with the right tools and the wrong intentions could make datapads spill their secrets.


Acier Moonbound

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Corellia

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

"Sorry, you're just so… young."

If he'd had a credit chip every time he'd heard a comment about his age... fact of the matter was, he was young. Eighteen. But he never felt young, not after what Ace had seen and experienced from such a young age. Like the other orphans on Bonadan, he was forced to grow up quicker than he should have. With that, came scars and a weariness that made him feel decades older than he actually was.

Kinley answered his question about the datapad which echoed his own. His lips turned into a grin, he liked how quick she was. Snickering shallowly, Ace brought his glass to his lips and took another sip.

"Seems so. Both a couple of suckers, I guess."

When the bartender arrived, Ace opted to not say anything. Just let Kinley do her thing, follow along, and keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior. He glanced at the Wookiee as they passed him, the guy's fists told him enough. He'd seen buildings with less structural integrity.

When the Rodian greeted her with all the charm of a credit shark in a silk vest, Ace caught the shift in Kinley's posture. Her tone stayed level, but her words carried weight, sharpened like vibroglass.

"Let's skip the part where you pretend Flint doesn't own your sorry hide."

Ace raised an eyebrow. He was impressed, that was one hell of a card to play - clean, quick, and devastating. He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to. The tension in the room had already snapped. He just followed her through the reinforced door when the Rodian finally caved.

Stepping inside the workshop, he exhaled lightly. Ace wasn't letting his guard down, but he felt comfortable being surrounded by things that made sense. Circuit clamps, signal splitters, reroute coils, even a heat sink rig bolted to the wall. It wasn't fancy, but it had everything he needed.

"Nice place." he muttered, eyes already scanning for a power jack. "Feels like home. If home had more velvet and people who wanted to kill me..." he paused, pondering on what he'd said "Actually, that last part was a recurring thing too."

He pulled out the datapad before, casually, flicking his fingers and summoning Kinley's datapad into his hand with the Force. Placing the pair on the central bench, he began pulling cables from the drawers.

Then he got to work, connecting the datapad to the rig. Soft lights flickered across the screen. Lines of encrypted aurebesh scrolled, stopped, then began again as he overrode the security loop. He typed something, then grinned slightly as a diagnostic light blinked green. The screen flickered, first static, then a file tree, and finally a location ping buried beneath two layers of proxy shielding... but traceable. He repeated the same process with Kinley's datapad - same results.

Ace turned to Kinley, expression unreadable "Ready for this? 'Cause wherever this leads... it's not just some sleemo with a bad encryption job. This is planned. Networked." he turned back to the screen and added "And he's hiding something big."

Kinley Pryse ​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

"I Wanna Drink that Shot of Whiskey. I Wanna Smoke that Cigarette. You Know Some Cowboys like Me Go Out Like That" ​

Kinley stayed silent while the kid worked, slouched against the wall with her hat pulled low and a mocktail in hand. She looked like she belonged here, like the noise, the flickering lights, and the scent of oil and ozone were just background static. The unsettling part? Maybe they were. Criminals were easy to read. Predictable. And Kinley knew no one was going to interrupt them.

"Ready for this? 'Cause wherever this leads... it's not just some sleemo with a bad encryption job. This is planned. Networked." he turned back to the screen and added "And he's hiding something big."

She pushed off the wall with the toe of her boot and crossed the room, eyes flicking over the screen. Big secrets were always worth chasing. People didn't hide worthless things, and every credit her boss earned meant her father lived another day.

"Not for long. How do we find him?"

Acier Moonbound

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Corellia

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Ace's fingers moved quickly across the slicer rig's interface, the steady rhythm of soft keystrokes filled the quiet between them. His dark eyes stayed locked on the screen, watching as lines of code and data trees unfurled and twisted under his command.

"I can backtrace its origin point. Maybe."

The diagnostic field shifted. A signal ping lit up, bouncing between a pair of relays, one was active and another long-defunct. The older one pulsed faintly with Black Sun signature code. Fractured but still recognizable.

"Whoever set this up piggybacked off old Black Sun infrastructure. Enough to mask the signal in their noise."

Ace tapped in another string of commands and the datapad gave a low beep of resistance. He frowned slightly, then leaned forward. The datapad's interface blinked once, then pulsed with a new coordinate grid. There wasn't a name, but there was a local sector designation and a hard route trace.

"Coronet City - Industrial Sector 09."

He sat back in the chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The location was unexpected, as far as he knew Sector Nine was mostly condemned infrastructure. Old comms towers, freight hubs, empty warehouses. Most of it was just dead steel and graffiti. Then he turned to Kinley, eyes narrowing to study her reaction.

"You always this calm about jumping into the unknown?"

It wasn't a challenge, more of an observation. She hadn't even asked why someone would hide a datapad trace behind criminal networks and ghost signals. She just wanted to follow it. Ace reached for the remains of his Scarif Slush, took a long pull from the straw, then stood up and started packing away the cabling.

Why Sector Nine? Why bury a signal that deep unless it connected to something bigger? Guess they'd find their answers soon. He tucked the datapads into his pack and met her eyes again.

"You ready? We'll take your swoop, I guess." he smirked.

Kinley Pryse​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley could sweet-talk a droid into picking its own lock​

"Whoever set this up piggybacked off old Black Sun infrastructure. Enough to mask the signal in their noise."

Kinley narrowed her eyes but didn't comment. Anyone dumb enough to tangle with Black Sun needed to be dealt with decisively. But Acier didn't strike her as the type who'd be on board with skulls getting ventilated. He had that straight-edge vibe. Too clean.

She'd cross that bridge when it caught fire.

If word got back that she'd let a known security risk walk? The Syndicate would have her hide and not metaphorically. Kinley knew exactly whose skin she was paid to save.

"You always this calm about jumping into the unknown?"

She smirked. The question told her everything she needed to know. The act was working. The swagger, the calm, the carefully curated myth, it kept people guessing. Kept her breathing.

"Calm's how you stay alive," she said. "Twitchy gets you killed."

Without another word, they slipped out of the casino. Kinley tipped her hat to Ranz on the way out. He looked genuinely pleased to see her leave.

A few minutes later, they were tearing through the city en route to the industrial sector. Traffic thinned the farther they got, and Kinley opened up the throttle. She preferred it that way. The speed suited her.

Acier Moonbound

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Corellia

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

"Calm's how you stay alive," she said. "Twitchy gets you killed."

Maybe. Or maybe it just made you harder to read. Kinley's answer was quick, like she'd rehearsed that for years. Or said it often. The kind of wisdom people liked to believe about themselves until the barrel turned their way. He didn't push.

Ace reflected on her words as they rode through Corellia. Its lights blurring into long trails of neon and shadow. She handled the throttle like she was born in it, weaving through thinning traffic without a second thought. If he didn't know any better, he'd peg her for a Force-sensitive.

There was something about her though, it wasn't just the way she drove, or the way she walked through a room like she owned it. It was quieter than that. Dangerous, sure... but not the kind of danger that screamed. The kind that smirked and kept walking. He felt drawn to it.

Get a grip, Moonbound. Focus. He told himself.

They cut through the last checkpoint unnoticed, the guards too busy gambling over a burner terminal to look twice. Ace had never been to Sector 09, but he'd heard stories. Most of it wasn't patrolled anymore. Officially, it was still under "long-term refurbishment." Unofficially, it was where old tech went to rot, and obviously, where people went when they didn't want to be found.

Kinley slowed the swoop and coasted them into the shadow of a half-collapsed cargo dock. Ace dismounted silently, his boots hitting the ferrocrete with a dull crunch.

"This is the block." He said, voice low. "Signal trace leads to that building across the street. Warehouse 11."

He nodded toward a two-story slab of grey durasteel. There were no signs or lights, but the upper windows were smeared with some kind of sealant. Visibility had been blocked from both sides. There was also a vent on the roof that was still faintly warm... which meant someone had been using it.

Ace moved to the edge of the alley. At the back door, he ran his hand along the frame, fingers brushing the seam.

"Reinforced durasteel. Keypad's off-grid." He stepped back, eyes narrowing. "Not an easy slice. Not without setting something off, at least."

He crouched beside the access panel, hand already drifting to his lightsaber. Ace didn't say anything or allude to what he was about to do, he just did it. With a quiet snap-hiss, the blue blade flared to lifel. He angled it forward, guiding the tip through the panel's seam with surgical precision. The durasteel parted without fanfare, the metal cauterized as it split. He caught the faceplate before it clattered, easing it aside.

No sparks. No alarms. Just the faint scent of ionized metal. Without a word, he deactivated his lightsaber. The alley fell back into shadow as the blade vanished.

"Alright, let's do this." He said, offering her a confident smirk.

Kinley Pryse ​