STEPH SMASH!!!!

[Jak Sandrow]

Perhaps not. Then again, Steph hadn't had her complete molecular structure rearranged... that was living...

"I suppose. I'll have to do that, then, sometime. Though I don't usually punch people... my profession includes stabbing."

He glanced again. She could really use some help....

But he was in a quandary. He couldn't just.... take her with him. That would be insensible to the highest degree. He also had no excuse to. It wasn't like she'd faint in his lap. Then he'd have a reason to help. So instead...

He dropped a few creds in her lap. "Take that and buy yourself a good meal. Don't use it on drugs... please..." He really wanted to help; he couldn't stand people living on the edge of life, wasting themselves away for a simple hit, or a momentary good feeling... not when there was so much to do out there....

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

This confused her.

She simply didn't understand, she would never understand. Steph would watch people stare at her, shaking their heads or averting their gaze, quickly pulling their children along before there was even a smattering of a chance for interaction. Don't even look at the whore, you might catch something through your eyeballs.

It was quite amusing how when decked out in her Havoc Squad armour it was the complete opposite story. Depending on the planet they were on she would be greeted with smiles and friendly nods. Now that really did perplex the woman.

Human interaction in general was not her strong point.

The extremely oblivious Miss Zenima just stared at the credits, before downing the rest of her beer. As stated before, she just couldn't understand.

“Why div ye even care, min?”

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

That got him to shut up, real fast.

He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. Opening it.... he shut it again. He looked like a dying fish.

"I don't know..." he managed, finally. "I guess.... when I see someone hurt... I don't know. My heart goes out to them. Figuratively," he clarified, lest she begin to crave a heart, for whatever reason.

"And you... with your... conditions as they are..." he said, waving a hand in her general direction, "I don't know... Something in me said to help you. If that means letting my side get whacked with a hammer, so be it. But... whatever vicious cycle you're in... you gotta stop. It's only going to kill you. If you won't already die within a month or so."

How she managed to live in those conditions for so long was anyone's guess, he thought.

"I care," he finished, "because I would want someone to care about me, if I were sitting in a grungy pit, being fed ryll and who knows what else. Look. I don't know you. I don't know your story. Heck, I don't even know your name. But if I can help in any way, whether it's giving you money, or taking you under my wing, or finding somewhere for you to go that isn't a gutter.... then I swear by whatever gods there are, I will help you."

Wow. That was a first.

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

Gosh, lately the life of Little Miss Zenima has been awfully emotional.

Or maybe she was just attracting all the bleeding hearts of the galaxy into one super-concentrated mass of pity. Now there was a thought.

You can breathe a sigh of relief, by the by, although she has no idea what the word figuratively means the woman isn't a cannibal, she bites, yes but not out of hunger. Also, a month? A MONTH?! You highly underestimate the survivability skills of one Stephanie no middle name Zenima. It's like somebody hit the infinite lives code when that girl was born because by logic's standards she should already be dead about five-hundred and three times over.

“Folk need'tae stop tellin' me 'at ahm gonnae die,” she rumbled, still staring at those credits in her lap, “people like me dinnae even mak' it off o' Nar Shaddaa but I hiv.” This talk of dying, gutter and help were making her uncomfortable, as if her life was so horrible.

Steph Zenima would never understand.

“Fit wid ye dee if ah wis under yer wing, eh? Fit aboot fan ahm achin' fur some sticks an' ah get violent? Fit if ah killed ye?”

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

"What would I do?" he repeated. "Well, I'd get you off that addiction, for starters. I'd find someone you'd be comfortable with to clean you up, get you looking like you're supposed to again." He ticked off his proposition on his fingers. "If you find yourself craving deathsticks, or whatever drugs you take, I'd pin you up again, and wait till you stop being so violent. It does pass, believe me, I've tried."

He grinned at the last. "Oh, like you tried to just now? Rest assured Miss.... uh, I never actually got your name. Rest assured, I wouldn't let that happen."

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

Steph smirked.

That single moment in which he offered the woman a beer was the entire difference between life and smash. Usually upon a setback like vines, or being suspended upside-down for slightly hazardous amounts of time wouldn't have deterred her, she would have fought until unconsciousness hit or even death. The moment that Zenima physically couldn't get back onto her feet was usually the moment that she gave up.

However beer had emerged as the deciding factor on this day.

By the by, waiting until Steph Zenima stops being so violent? Dear lord. Have you got several lifetimes to spare? Sounds like a quest a masochistic monk would embark on.

“Mah name's Steph, min. An' I wud hauv smashed yer heid in if ye didn't taste sae frakkin' mingin'.”

Boast boast. Bluster bluster.

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

He gave a wry grin. "That I doubt. Pleased to meet you, Steph. Name's Jak."

Exchanging names and beer with mortal enemies?

Stranger things have happened...

Jak's a plant. He's got several lifetimes to spare.

"So..." he said, loosely holding on to his empty bottle, "what now? We go back to swinging fists until one or the other of us falls unconscious?"

As impossible as it may seem, he... was attempting to reason... with @[member="Steph Zenima"]....

 

[Steph Zenima]

She had learned his name? Could she still crush his skull with the power of her sledgehammer whilst knowing that he had an identity, a name? Of course she bloody well could, Zenima could live with a three-legged puppy for six months and then at the drop of a hat punt it into a blender because at the end of that day that's who she was.

A psychopathy.

These rare glimpses of a girl vulnerable beneath the cracks were peculiar, anomalies even. When the planets align, and the moon is full and there's beer. Truth be told, Steph could probably claim to have committed more atrocities than some of those amongst the Sith, but there's just no good press to come from blatant murder on Nar Shaddaa, it's an every day sort of affair on that moon.

“Aye, ah'd like that, Jak.”

Then she tried to smash her empty bottle over his head. What a nice lady.

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

As she gave her intentions away, he managed to get an arm up to block hers in time, then wrapped his fingers tight around her wrist, trying to force her to drop the bottle.

When she inevitably did, he twisted her arm around her back, forcing her to her feet. Getting up behind her, he began to slowly apply pressure up on her arm.

"See, this is why you don't get plants mad. We hit back."

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

Alas, foiled.

The benefits of putting all the drugs ever into every orifice of your body really shone in this moment. You'd be expecting her to be writhing and squirming, stuck in that general area of discomfort but no, not this classy lassie. Those nerve ends were fried right now, frazzled, having a nap, or perhaps a rave. The point was, the pain had been dulled.

“Nae hard enough,” she responded, grinning from ear to ear.

Like the proverbial donkey (or perhaps the not-proverbial donkey, I don't know where proverb would fit in here) she kicked backwards. Trying to catch his knees. It was the only thing she could think of doing, a bit inconvenient when they're standing behind you, y'know?

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

Well, she tried to hit his knees.

Being somewhat taller, it did hit him. He wasn't expecting it. However, it only whacked against his shins. And the same deadened nerves that currently occupied her arm also occupied her legs. And so it wasn't that hard.

He frowned a little. This was going to be a little harder than he had thought...

"How's this?" he asked, jamming it up, possibly hard enough to break a joint or two. He didn't know. He didn't have joints.

"Feel any better?"

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

Welp, this wasn't working.

The woman gritted her teeth, clearly frustrated at the lack of escaping that was occurring at that moment in time, huh, wouldn't you know it, plants really were tougher than they looked. Perhaps that was why fruits and vegetables were so beneficial, because they were tough mothers, you weren't merely eating your greens but absorbing their powers.

Something in her arm cracked. She grunted in response. That one she did feel, even if it wasn't as sharp a pain as it should have done she still felt it. If she kept up this act he was likely to break every bone in her arm.

“LEMME GO, MIN. OR AH'LL BLOODY KILL YEH.”

Sadly she had never once levelled up her speech skill.

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

Hey have you ever tried to kill a tree by kicking the trunk? And I mean a tree, not just a little sapling.

Yeah, eat your fruits and veggies. Sure got him... wait for it. Jak-ked.

He shifted to keep her arm pinned behind her back. Grunting a little under the strain (she sure was strong for a little woman), he grinned. "And you've been doing so well thus far."

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

I cannot say that I have attempted such an act, although in my life not a single tree has given me cause to harm them. Perhaps I could destroy a tree with a kick, perhaps I have this dormant power within me, the mega kick is just waiting to be unleashed, just need to tap into my centre. Although when reality returns to me I'm sure that I will agree, no, I cannot destroy a tree by kicking the trunk.

You can't escape. Give up. Upon being prompted by the mysterious force that was the narrator the woman went limp. She hung her head, clearly not being able to lay a good right hook on the man was frustrating her to no end.

“Ye dinnae say...” she sighed, dejected.

Although, lets say that her wouldn't be one last hurrah. Hoping that he would have relaxed his grip somewhat the woman launched her head backwards with ferocity. “YAH!” she roared, hoping to crack her Neanderthal skull against...well, whatever part of his anatomy was currently behind her.

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

He grinned, finally glad she agreed with him on something...

“YAH!” He stumbled back, momentarily stunned by the head to the chest. But he quickly grabbed her arm, and in a bit of a loss of self control, snapped it up, hopefully breaking something.

"And please stay down."

He sighed. "Listen. Steph. I'm really trying to help you. If that means pounding you to a pulp until you listen... so be it."

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

I feel like the back headbutt really wasn't worth breaking an arm over. Of course, I'm an ordinary human being that runs on logic, I eat, sleep and breathe. I'm not a mental space cretin that bathes in vomit and showers in space meth. So naturally committing to the headbutt felt one hundred percent the right thing to do in her eyes, even after he broke her arm.

Of course this time she roared in response, feeling the pain burn just that inch more.

Perhaps it was time to give up, I mean at this rate the man was probably going to just rip her entire arm off. She didn't doubt that he could, the power of plants and all that. I mean she could always bide her time, wait until she could get the element of surprise and pounce.

“Fine fine!” she grunted, “Ahm listenin', ahm listenin', jus' let bloody go!”

Hint: Don't let go.

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

And we all know how well Jak listens to his writer.

Besides. Jak's gullible by nature.

He forced her to the ground, and slowly let go, backing off a little. "Alright. Listen. Please."

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

[Sorry for the lateness, I've been a lazy bint!]

After being forced to the ground the woman sat there, she sat there like a petulant toddler given a time out for hitting one of the neighbour children with a rock. We need to discipline her, honey, or she might make a habit out of it.

Steph didn't make a break for it, nor did she try to assault him again, the woman stayed perfectly still and held that poor broken arm. I like to think that it was almost worrying that she didn't move, as if she were a nuclear weapon that may have beeped, but hadn't yet detonated. Who knew when she would explode and how many innocent lives she would take with her.

“Ahm...listening...pal...” Zenima said through gritted teeth. Maybe she just needed to be put into time out more often.

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

[Hey, that's absolutely fine.]

He sighed. Maybe this wasn't the right idea, but still...

"Look. I have a crazy idea. It's... probably insanity, but what else could it be? And you seem to like insanity, soooo....

"I want to put together a ragtag band of smugglers. A network across the galaxy. There'd be flying, smashing, smuggling, smashing..."

He looked over at her to see how she was reacting.

And he really hoped he wouldn't see another hammer.

@[member="Steph Zenima"]

 

[Steph Zenima]

Smuggling?

That drew a quizzical look from the woman. Surprisingly she was great at accidentally smuggling herself but that was about it. No, really. She likes to sleep in boxes, like a cat. Except sometimes said boxes are actually cargo and that taking naps in warehouses may not be the recommended course for life. However...

...smashing.

She grinned at that thought. Smashing. I mean, smashing with the republic was all well and good but they didn't need her, they were adept enough at smashing on their own. They also didn't allow her to tramp across the planets that they owned, in case she caused havoc there. Freedom to tramp. Yes. Also, the free and open use of orphan shields. Possibly. That would be up for discussion.

“...ahmmm,” she attempted to muse, just looking like a short woman making odd noises, “aye, ah think ah wid like tae smash.”

Steph really had nothing else left to say, she was hardly the steel bloody negotiator, come on. You said smash and it made her happy internally, that's about as much as there was to it.

She offered him her hand, this time not in violence, but in agreement.

@[member="Jak Sandrow"]