Private Smuggling Candy

[Devin Virell]

Cali Ziiva​

Devin had no important reason to be on Tirahnn. Nobody had sent him, which was basicallyy how the best decisions always started. Three or four nights earlier, somewhere along the Perlemian Way, a sabacc table had accepted the eighty credits he could afford to lose and, after several hours of statistical abuse, returned several times that amount. Maybe he had a week of freedom left. Enough for passage, a cheap room, some food, another chance to buy in somewhere, and the comforting lie that consequences would stay outside for a while longer.

So.. Tirahnn it was. The Great Fair rolled beneath the afternoon like an ocean of strangers; most of them were louder and far better dressed than him. Nobody cared who Rogue Six was. Nobody knew Striker Four. Most probably wouldn't have cared what happened to Coruscant, provided the disaster didn't interrupt lunch. To the fair, Devin was just another young man with his hands in his pockets, drifting wherever the current took him lately.

An hour remained before an advertised sabacc game, which was plenty of time to waste. He'd made a career out of wasting time years ago. The pay was unreliable, and the benefits were mostly regret.

A fruity drink sweated in one hand. Something fried and terribly seasoned occupied the other. Another bite went in, followed by the careful consideration of whether six credits had been a fair price for food that appeared to have been seasoned with what he presumed to be some sort of industrial solvent. And well, the answer changed every few seconds. At present, it was no.

Security seemed pretty lax and that counted for something. A person could get away with almost anything when everyone was busy selling, buying, or just pretending not to care. One of the rides turned along the far edge of the fair. Devin had even been prepared to try it.. which was probably some ambitious way of describing a feeling that didn't even qualify as curiosity. Emotional investment suggested a pulse?

The food stopped halfway to his mouth. Then the ride groaned, the crowd cheered for whatever reason, and Devin lowered the fried thing without taking another bite. Six credits all of a sudden felt like a very reasonable price for not being on it. In retrospect, it might've been the best investment he made all week.

 

[Cali Ziiva]

​

"Beep! Beep! Watch out, Cutey comin' through!" a quintessentially feminine voice cried before a Pink thing atop a floating slab full of equipment swept into view and lurched into the crowd that parted before her.

A few seconds passed and the crowd settled back in to local distractions. At least until another cry drew eyes as long mechanical arms rose above the crowd and took hold of the circular ride at the edge of the fair. The commotion settled quickly as the arms were an eyeful, but without the ride collapsing there wasn't much else of note from afar.

A minute or two passed before the floating slab drifted back the way it'd come with the pink Zeltron wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. The mechanical arms were gone from the horizon now, and the ride was beginning to move again. "Whew. Mm, hey," Cali looked down at her mobile workbench, "no, hey," she pointed at the stand nearby, "over there. They got fruity drinks! Don't be like that, we'll get to the haunted house later. It's just one creature that isn't working. People could use the break. I could use a break too! Fruity drink," she cried and the floating platform turned in the direction of the stand.

Cali hopped down to the ground and bounced over to place a quick order. "Ooh, Red Cherry! With a splash of sour apple." Sugar was great, but it didn't hurt to have a little contrast so it wasn't too sweet. Had to save room for chocolate. There had to be a place around there selling something chocolate.

"Oh, hello," Cali called out with a face-splitting grin as she waved to Devin Virell .

 

[Devin Virell]

Cali Ziiva​

Another sip went down like a personal insult. So Devin examined the cup, hoping it might confess to something.. fraud, sabotage, maybe simple bad taste.. but the juice kept its professional silence. Too sweet, honestly. The kind of sweet that suggested somebody had emptied a candy factory into whatever was used to make it. Back on base, even the recycled caf had tasted better, unless that was only the nostalgia talking.

A wash of pink drifted into the edge of his vision. Eyes tracked it first; the rest of him followed when convenient. Beyond the railing, some floating platform glided through the neon haze, bristling with equipment and piloted.. or possibly haunted, by a woman in pink. He took another drink. Because the first mistake apparently failed to make its point.

As she drew closer, the details sorted themselves out without much effort. Pink, pink, more pink, a grin far too pleased with existence, and enough gear stacked behind her to open a small repair shop.. assuming the shop didn’t collapse under its own inventory. Devin’s gaze slipped past her toward the ride turning again in the distance, smoother now than it had any right to be. So.. that explained the arms. Well, a person didn’t usually haul that much around unless they were fixing something, escaping something, or both? At least, that’d been his experience.

His voice was loose and easy. "You always make an entrance like that? Not judging or anything. Just trying to figure out whether I should duck next time or start wearing a helmet. Personally, I think the helmet ruins the whole mysterious stranger thing, but safety regulations have never cared much about my image, ya know?"