Technical Difficulties

[Kurt Meyer]

Nar Shaddaa
[member="Bianca"]

Damn it.

He'd never thought he'd come back to his moon, never thought he'd have to. Every time he came to this place something bad happened, something either tried to kill him, rob him, or just outright kidnap him. Kurt couldn't even remember the last time he had been here, and he meant that literally. The last time he had visited Nar Shaddaa he had ended up doing so much spice and so many stims that it had left him bedridden for three days coming down from them. There was still a massive hole in his memory from when that had happened, and he still could the shakes sometimes.

So why had be come back then?

A job of course.

Kurt's work often took him all the way around the galaxy and half way back. Most people would have thought of him as a simple delivery boy, but in reality what he did was far more dangerous. He was a courier, and that meant whatever he delivered was guaranteed by him. That was an important distinction, it meant that he was responsible for his deliveries, and it also meant that he delivered quite the expensive bits and bobs. Nar Shaddaa was one of the most dangerous places to deliver to, and the thing he was delivering? Well it wasn't exactly paltry.

He had been contracted to deliver a datachip. He had no idea what was on the datachip nor who had sent it, but he did know the man who he was delivering it to wasn't exactly known for his kindness, nor his understanding. A Nikto, serious and stern, and a crime lord above everything else. He paid well for the delivery, and Kurt desperately needed to pay for the parts from Raxus, so he had come back to do this job, and he would see it through.

Like he always did.

The courier shifted slightly, checking his inner pocket for the small package he had been given and the blaster at his thigh. His head bobbed down in a small nod before he quickly stepped forward and out of the alley, heading directly towards the cantina in front of him, the sign above reading three simple words. 'The Biting Bantha'.

 

[Ellie Mors]

//Nar Shaddaa

Unit B14-NC4 wasn't a person, at least not by the standard of organics and the overwhelming public consensus. Though she had been code-named as Bianca, for lack of imagination apparently, the droid was still every bit as robotic as the next, only cleverly disguised as a normal human - fully autonomous and sentient at that. She was to be one of the first of the newest generation of human replica droids, designed and created by the originals themselves, Onadax Droid Technologies. Though she was engineered with almost perfect results, there was still the matter of experience over knowledge. She knew had to act like a human, she even forcefully adopted a habit of fidgeting with her hair or arms to appear more naturally uncomfortable in situations where a droid would remain perfectly stoic, but she didn't have experience being one - or at least being around them.

It was eight months into her post-production training, a process designed specifically to test the abilities and potential of each replica droid produced for quality control that lasted just over a year and a month, and she found herself dropped onto the cesspool that was Nar Shaddaa. She was a mess, really, forced to experience life as a human that had lost essentially everything but the clothes on their back - which, if someone had summed up her clothing, looked more wore and torn than not at this point - for the duration of her time on Nar Shaddaa, as a test of her resourcefulness and ability to cope. It hadn't taken her long to find herself meandering through a crowd, feigning fatigue to blend in with her outward appearance, and eventually ending up at some hovel called "The Biting Bantha".

She wasn't really quite aware of the parcel that the courier carried on him, or the fact that he was any kind of delivery person at all, only that he appeared a bit more focused on something other than the money in his pocket.

Maybe she'd try her hand at working her magic over him, get him to provide her with shelter and maybe steal some credits off of him - though the idea of theft was a bit low for a droid designed and aspiring to be the perfect assassin, it appeared necessary to complete the goal and right now that was all that mattered.

B14 kept her distance enough to not enter her target's personal bubble, while staying close enough to not arouse suspicion that she might be tailing him. All that remained was to keep her attention relaxed and to herself in order to remain inconspicuous. It was Nar Shaddaa, after all.

Unfortunately, it was Nar Shaddaa.

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

Kurt didn't notice the woman following him, or rather, the droid following him. He was not trained in that sort of thing, though he had done a brief sting in the Navy. Most of his combat training had about firing his sidearm and how to survive after a crash, not about counter-intelligence work.

Beside, Kurt was hardly the type to wave away a beautiful woman that was following him even if he had noticed.

The courier moved forward, ignorant of Bianca following behind him as he passed through the doors of 'The Biting Bantha', a single nod to the doorman being enough to let him through. The immediate rush of electronic music as he passed through the door was nearly an affront to his senses, the hazy blue fog illuminated by the neon lights above seemed to cling to everything and everyone. The Stench of deathsticks hung in the air, and Kurt wondered if the credits he was about to make were actually worth it. His head shook slightly as he surveyed the room, passing his eyes over the crowd.

To the left were the offices, to the right the VIP section, the bar was located directly in front of him and of course in the back was the staircase to the...ahem, more private areas where guests sometimes absconded to. Nar Shaddaa wasn't exactly know for it's prudishness, and as Kurt spotted the staircase he also saw a Twi'lek dragging a rather hesitant man up them. The courier let out a loud whistle, then moved towards the bar ahead of him.

There was a procedure that had to be followed he.

"Ey!" His thick Tatooine drawl pulled out from his lips as he reached the bar, his voice barely reaching above the deafening music. "Give me a Twin Sun."

The twin sun was a drink that had been invented on Tatooine. It was a mixture of Corellian Whisky, vodka and two orange slices. Kurt had been drinking them since he was sixteen, the cocktail being somewhat of a staple in Mos Eisley. As he waited for the bar tender to get him his drink, Kurt half turned, spotting the woman that had been following him and offering her a charming smile.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Maybe B14 had half-expected the doorman to let her through as easily as he had [member="Kurt Meyer"], or maybe she just wasn't adjusted to the culture of this kind of society - the organic kind - but the moment she smiled back to the courier's friendly gaze was the moment her chest was met with a large, barring, hand. Tilting her head to the side, she looked down at the limb and the appendages attached to it, noting its rather brutish qualities - something stereotypical of men in this position, surely - and then turned her gaze to the stern look of the club bouncer that had denied her entry. But why? "Dancers have to go around back." He grunted. No sooner had the words left her lips that her droid brain had processed the implication and triggered the appropriate, simulated, feeling. Anger, shock, maybe a bit of disgust at the blatant sexism and profiling, but mostly anger.

Pursing her lips and letting her pleased expression contort into a stern one, mirroring the bouncer's own, and raised her own hand up to wrap her left hand's fingers around three of the larger man's. "I'm not a dancer." She replied coolly, though still quite calm, all things considered. The man's response was more body language than anything, a look of doubt and then a sweeping glance from toe-to-head and back again, and she rolled her eyes, as her conditioning had instilled, and waited for further reply. "You? Not a dancer? Then maybe you work the street corner down the road." The man said with a smirk, perhaps finding his comment humorous - exactly the opposite of her view on the subject. Unfortunately for the door man, whether he was an actual bouncer or not, his fingers were in the loose grip of a droid, rather than an otherwise non-intimidating woman, and when that grip tightened - a bit quickly, at that - extreme pain set in. Maybe it wasn't the right way to go about it, maybe violence wasn't the answer in this situation, but when the man's face contorted to pain and he pulled his hand free of her suddenly loosened grip, it was obvious that it was certainly one way in.

Perhaps spitefully, B14 smiled back at the grimacing man and walked into the building, towards the man she'd tailed before. Not quite certain of a name, she started the conversation slowly - mimicking what he had done before she had walked in. "A glass of Ambrostine." B14 said to the bartender, who had just returned with [member="Kurt Meyer"]'s own drink. Nestling into the bar, hands holding up her chin, she leaned forwards as she sat down at a stool near the mark. "Something wrong with my hair?" She asked, fidgeting with her hand to swirl a strand around her finger.

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

A smile pulled at his lips.

There was something about a woman with full lips and blonde hair that he couldn't quite help but admire. It was a failing of his that had gotten him into trouble many times. Back on Tatooine, in the navy, a few Yum Bunnies that he had visited on Arceneau Trade Stations...it was always the same story, always the same mistake. The Courier couldn't help himself really, it was like a disease. Granted, it didn't always end badly, a few times it had gone quite well in fact, but that didn't help him settle up when the cards were dealt at the end of the day. Either way, as the woman began to fidget with her hair and the dulcet tone of her voice floated above the booming electronic music Kurt couldn't help but lean forward.

"Not at all darlin'." That accent drifted from his lips. "I'm just a man that admires beauty."

Honestly, childish honesty.

It was really the only way that Kurt knew how to talk, the only way he had ever talked. There was a charm to him, he had been told, the charm of a simple man with nothing to hide. There was no lie behind his eyes, no deception, nothing that told of dishonesty or disgust. Kurt did not judge, nor question the way she dressed. His reaction was almost diametrically opposite to that of the man at the doors. Instead of a sneer, she received a smile, instead of an insult, she received a complement. That was who he was, who he had always been. The drink in his hands met his lips, a touch of sweetness and a burn of this throat hitting him almost immediately as he swallowed the liquid.

The smile that pulled across his lips was disarming, his eyes setting on her own as he leaned forward so his voice didn't have to strain over the sound of the music. "What's your name?"

Curiosity drifted through his voice.

 

[Ellie Mors]

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

Feigning ignorance - or at least she hoped she was - B14 jerked her head to one side, a quick tilt if that, and smirked as she felt the hair around her head swish to the side, strands haphazardly laying across the side of her cheek. She wasn't quite expecting a compliment so soon - she had expected herself to be the one doing the disarming in this situation, not the other way around. She'd intended to say something in return, maybe something playful, but the bartender returned with her drink just as she started to smile. Her eyes drifted to the alcoholic beverage with mild interest while she let her grin spread.

Rather clumsily she reached out with her hand, the one not currently entwined in a tuft of hair, and dragged the glass towards her. In the same breadth, B14 brought her gaze back to Kurt's to observe the way he reacted to the alcohol. It was rather curious, the way these liquids caused organics to react - the slight expression of apprehension and almost regret that some humans and sentients had when they drank alcohol, as if hot fire had poured down their throat - and she aimed to make the sip she'd take next as believable as his, hopefully without overdoing it.

So when the man removed the glass from his lips and leaned towards her, smiling as charmingly as it appeared he could, B14 returned the smile with a sip from the golden liquid in her own glass. Being that she probably looked like quite the lightweight, probably not like someone who had made it a habit of drinking - and certainly not like some kind of machine immune to the effects of alcohol - the droid winced and shivered, swallowing hard while she put her glass back to the counter, a good bit of the drink left in the cup. "My name?" She asked, her voice intentionally a bit hoarse - she'd just drank a decent amount of a rather potent drink with almost no hesitation before her response. She swallowed again, perhaps to get rid of that tone in her voice. "Bianca."

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

He smiled, the music still blaring in his ears and her voice barely reaching him. He could hear the slight tickle in her throat, the small amount of hoarseness that came with drinking just a tad too much to swallow. Briefly The Courier wondered why a girl like this was on Nar Shaddaa, but then he remembered just what this planet was known for.

Smuggling, gambling, and refugees.

The war between the One Sith and the Republic had seen many people dislodged from their homes, planet after planet falling and being evacuated. Millions, if not billions of people had been displaced by that particular war, and he was more than willing to bet that this woman was one of them. Nar Shaddaa was by no means a pleasant place to be, especially when one...well when one looked like she did, and guessing by her clothes Bianca knew exactly what that meant. He continued to lean in towards her, staying just a hairs breath away from her with the same smile on his face, his eyes slowly searching her own.

"It's a beautiful name." He told her, no hint of a lie to his tone.

Names could tell a lot about a person, their origin, what culture they came from and who their parents were, sometimes even how they were raised.

"Care to join me?" This time his question was a bit more quiet, his eyes wandering past her and towards one of the more private booths at the other end of the club. "Perhaps go somewhere a little less loud?"

 

[Ellie Mors]

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

Curiosity fluttered in her head. Were all the organics so forward? For a moment she'd even forgotten the reason she'd followed the man into the seedy little place to begin with, it was hard not to get lost staring into someone else's eyes - a part of the anatomy that always fascinated the droid. One could read expressions in them far more accurately than the rest of the body, even see what kind of a person they were. Droids? Those "eyes" were just installed photo-receptors that were designed to aesthetically appear as eyes did, little feeling was kept behind them - less of a gloss, too, really. It was why most of the older model replica droids had the distinct "wrong" feeling about them, why the complete structuring from the inside-out was done meticulously in order to fully replicate every last detail of the human body in an artificial shell. Only better.

The question, of course, caught her completely off-guard. She'd expected a short, maybe long, night of drinking and flirting to get this far, or at least some talking before he'd say anything like this. When his eyes shifted towards one of the private booths behind her, she turned her head with her brow arched in amused confusion. "Back there?" She asked, nodding back towards an unoccupied booth, with a mild hint of uncertainty. Regardless of the situation now, it was obviously in her favor. She'd accept, of course, and maybe even keep him occupied before she'd take some credits off of him. A slow nod followed the internal monologue and planning process, a pleasant smile inching across the corners of her lips. "Sure, why not?" Was her reply. B14 was aware that she was physically designed to totally infiltrate human culture and society, so there were no concerns of her being able to play the part.

Deciding to take the initiative, this time at any rate, she slid down from the chair and slipped a credit chip or two beside her drink. "Well? What're you waiting for?" B14-NC4 asked before abruptly turning around and practically bouncing her way to the booth.

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

Kurt didn't hesitate. When a beautiful woman asked him what he was waiting for his answer was usually a smirk and a smack on the ass, something that he would replicate now. The Courier practically bounded forward, dropping a credit chit on the table before following after Bianca. His steps were hastened, though he didn't sprint nor run. As he moved his hand slipped onto the small of her back, sliding only slightly lower to let his fingers curl and grip curved flesh for half a second before slipping away and up her hip.

The booths were secluded in the darker part of the nightclub, massive drapes could be pulled around them for privacy, a small shield generator being capable of rendering them completely soundproof. It was a nice set up really, and not all that uncommon for a night club like this on Nar Shaddaa. Of course each booth came with a rather comfortable sofa and a large table, the table acting as a small bar in it of itself.

The things were expensive...but, as Kurt cast a glance over towards the woman with him he couldn't but think it was worth it. "I never wait, darlin'."

That thick Tatooine drawl would pull out from his tongue once again as he slipped passed her and practically fell into the booth, his hand sliding over her hip and gently grasping her hand to pull her along with him into the booth. His manner was flirtations, no, beyond that, but then again Kurt had always been known to be as such. He couldn't help himself really, it was like an addiction, making bad decisions with worse outcomes.

Then again, who could blame him?

 

[Ellie Mors]

She smiled. No, it wasn't a happy one - or a sad one, either - but one to keep the mood going and the charade intact. She knew this was behavior unbecoming of the average male, though perhaps not on Nar Shaddaa, and she knew she ought to be disgusted by it, but if it meant getting the job done then it was worth doing. When he grasped at her rear she couldn't help but smirk and giggle, although it was more at the situation and knowing her own secret than any kind of real satisfaction. In fact, being a droid produced to appear as the age she looked and programmed as mature as she was, B14 had never experienced such an act as she could only assume was to follow. "Good things come to those that wait - haven't you heard?" She replied as she walked into the booth behind him.

Again she found herself being manhandled, a hand dragging her into the the room further, a hand attached to a man she hardly - or rather, didn't - know. If she were an organic, perhaps she might find herself annoyed - though perhaps all organics were like this - but she found herself lucky, happy even, to be simply a droid. "Are we going to talk, or..." B14-NC4 asked, her voice trailing off as she found a seat on the sofa. She didn't really quite wait for the answer, sliding her hands down to her knees and then up her skirt, lifting her bottom off of the cushion for a moment as her fingers found purchase on something and then pulled - a small, hardly concealing, article of clothing slipping down her waist and then down her legs, kicking them off passed the table. "Did you have something else in mind?"

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

"I always have something else in mind." Kurt grinned from ear to ear.

He hadn't expected this from Nar Shaddaa, and truthfully, he probably shouldn't be doing it in the first place. This was a bad idea if he had ever seen one, a really bad idea, but then again Kurt was practically made of bad ideas. Foolish decisions were a trademark of his, and as the curtains drew close and that small bit of fabric slipped onto the table in from of them Kurt couldn't help but bless whatever lord or powerful being looked over him.

Perhaps there was a god after all, somewhere out there.

"Why don't..." Kurt trailed off slowly as he slipped his hands onto her thigh. "I show you what I had in mind."

Very gently The Courier pulled Bianca towards himself, finding oddly enough that she was a tad heavier than she looked, though that didn't really make him stop or question anything given that there were many species in the galaxy who were a lot heavier than they looked. Instead he simply grinned, parting her legs and slowly dipping his head down.

 

[Ellie Mors]

If it weren't for the fact that B14 wasn't a unit built for pleasure, much less receiving it, she probably would have enjoyed the talented tongue skills the man displayed, but she was an assassin droid - built to kill. Or, in cases where killing wasn't the best idea for remaining in one piece, subduing an enemy or target. Perhaps the art of choking someone out with one's legs wasn't the most popular method of assassination, perhaps even less so in this context, but as she felt something slip between the gap in her thighs she lifted her legs, heel over heel, and then squeezed her legs shut like a vice. Obviously the goal was to get his face a little higher so his neck would be constricted, but she supposed suffocation wasn't all that bad of an alternative, all things considering.

"You're so adorable when you try hard."

It was a compliment - she did have the capacity to feel, after all - but it was also quite the pointless statement as she essentially tried to bring him a step closer to the end. Obviously the goal was to keep him alive, killing a man and robbing him would attract far more attention than knocking him unconscious and leaving with his things. For all anyone who might walk into such a soundproofed room might know, perhaps the adventurous affairs had been too overwhelming for him. Maybe too much alcohol. Either way she needed to actually get him to the point of passing out before any of that mattered. "Now be a good little boy and stop breathing. Mama's going to put you to sleep for a little while." She said, smirking at her own words.

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

At first he didn't mind the bit of constriction around his throat, in fact, it caused a bit of constriction elsewhere.

If there was one word that could best describe Kurt in the basic language it was experimental. He didn't mind a bit of choking, he didn't mind a bit of snuff play every now and again, so when Bianca began to speak to him that tone, when she called herself what she did and when the grip around his throat and the the forced press of his tongue was increased he couldn't help but derive a bit of entertainment from the whole process. Only when he began to run out of oxygen did he realize that something was amiss, the air quickly being unable to fill his lungs and his eyes slightly bugging out.

His hands came up, fingers lacing around the outside of her thighs as he desperately tried to pull the iron vice apart. He struggled, shifting, trying to throw her off of him to no avail. The odd amount of weight that she carried was too difficult for him to even budge an inch, his fingers digging into her flesh, turning from a sensual touch to near panicked clawing.

Kark. Was all he could think as his head began to grow light. Kark kark kark.

The word carried through his skull over and over again as his vision began to dull, the only reason behind his still conscious mind being his training to endure heavy g-forces. His mind began to race, clawing for an idea of something, anything that he could do. A lightbulb went off, a particularly dim lightbulb that ordinarily he would have filled away under this more ridiculous and idiotic ideas. Desperate times called for desperate measure, the increasing tightness on his throat, and elsewhere signalling that he was nearly gone.

His fingers floated up from her thighs, the pads dancing gently over her skin and grazing her hips until they gently pressed symmetrically into her sides.

Kurt began to tickle her, gently poking, prodding, and sliding his fingers over her flesh.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Now that he was firmly between her thighs of justi- wait, was he? A faint sensation, something she could relate to humor, but physical, and similar to pain in the way it suddenly debilitated her, shot through her hips and up her torso. The little insect was tickling her. If it weren't for the fact that she had been so self-absorbed in the afterglow of a, presumably, successful improvisation, she likely would have noticed what he was doing the moment he didn't try to tear at the skin of her legs. Not that he didn't pinch and scratch at her at first, at any rate. 'You little..' Of course the words never quite made it beyond her vocabulator, much less her lips, and she resolved to push him away from her - afraid he was going to try something a little more desperate in an area where pain receptors were a rather big issue.

"What are you, three?" She spat, wiping her inner thigh free of what she hoped was saliva, and immediately rose to her feet. Maybe she wasn't the toughest droid on the planet, but she was still pretty sturdy - having a metal skeletal system tended to see to that. "Just lie down and close your eyes." B14 said, cracking her right wrist. "Is that so hard to ask?" Glancing down, however, she realized the two of them weren't quite alone - figuratively. "WHAT THE KARK!?" She screamed, realizing what must have gone through his head - either of them - when he was suffocating several seconds prior. "You enjoyed that? What are you, a masochist?" Quite beside herself, and rather disgusted, she moved forwards and aimed a kick - however vague - at him. At this point it was less about the objective and more of venting. And for some reason he was looking a bit more attractive the angrier she got.

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

'Well-" Kurt said the word as he took a rabid breath into his chest, pulling air into his lungs and trying to catch his lungs some oxygen. His eyes were half sunken into their sockets, his fingers having grown pale and white. The Courier stumbled back and away from her, standing and whipping away so that he could simply catch himself against the side of the wall. The ray shield around them still buzzed, silencing her screams and completed pulling away any noise that the two of them made.

Her kick came next, impacting hard with his shin.

"Ow!" Kurt said as he began to hop up and down, his hand almost immediately dashing towards his leg to hold it. The Courier jumped up and down for a moment, looking rather foolish as he fell back into the sofa and landed with a hard thud. Kurt half flailed, though thankfully he had the presence of mind to pull the Blaster from the holster on his thigh, the WESTAR-34 coming free and it's barrel pointing directly at Bianca as he came into a landing on the couch.

"What the kark lady!" Kurt called out, his shin throbbing with pain, his chest rising and falling as she sucked in air, his fingers tightening around his blaster. "I thought we were having fun!"

He certainly had been.

A lot of it actually, but apparently Nar Shaddaa just couldn't let him have a good day.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Well, he had been a bit attractive, perhaps. Until that gun was drawn, anyways. Now she was standing right in the way of what could mean an early termination for her and discontinuation of her post-production training. Essentially, death. Speaking of death, she realized the man had been carrying the blaster on him the entire time - though for all the superior upgrades she had over the standard mill of human replica droids, she was obviously lacking in the perception and attention department for missing such a vital piece of information. She squeezed her synthskin eyelids shut and stomped her left heel against the floor and wordlessly cursed her idiocy. This pervert had managed to get himself out of what was a rather ingenious method of incapacitation, and now he had her up against the proverbial - well, maybe not quite metaphorical - wall.

"Let's just calm down, okay?" B14 said, inching back until her back was literally pressed against the wall. The sudden awareness that there was a weapon involved and the fact that she was relatively unarmed - body parts aside - prompted a drastic change in how she assessed the situation. A minute or two ago she was the one controlling the direction of the confrontation, now she was essentially at the mercy of the man's whims, whatever they may be. A hard swallow preceded silent, internal, cursing. Part of her knew she was able to move fast enough to perhaps catch the man off guard, but on the other hand she knew that even an accidental misfire could spell disaster for her. Or at least for her body, which probably still meant the end for her.

"How about we start things over again, work things out?" She asked, albeit lamely. Really she wasn't interested in trying to deal with a man with a gun, so much as she was trying to think of a way out of this mess that didn't involve a gun pointed at the back of her head with one of two heads in a region they didn't belong. "I wasn't going to hurt you, too much, I just..." B14 said, her voice trailing off as she tried to think of something to say - a bit disturbed that the first thing that popped into her head was essentially a mirrored interest that the man apparently had when she was suffocating him. "I just need you to relax." She added meekly.

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

Kurt looked at the woman, his eyes wandering up and down. Her demeanor had changed almost entirely, moving from strong, angry, and confident to weary and perhaps even a bit scared. He could see that she at the very least took the blaster serious, her eyes fixed on the weapon and her body language showing that she knew what it meant. That was good at least. He didn't like shooting people, particularly women, but this particular woman had tried to kill him not two minutes ago and if she decided to try to do so again he wouldn't hesitate to put a few scorch marks across her pretty alabaster skin.

"I am calm." The Courier said sucking in another breath, his lungs slowly filling with air and his breath steadying as he managed to compose himself. His hand was still tight around his blaster, his eyes fixed on her, watching for any sort of movement that might spell out an attack against him.

It was clear to him now that she wasn't exactly human, and if he had to guess he would say she was some sort of alien. The strength that she had exhibited, the weight that he had felt when pulling on her legs, even a man that constantly played the fool could tell that something was wrong. He frowned slightly, his gaze wandering over to the switch on the wall that would shut down the ray shields. He was tempted to flip it, to end this little date now and simply walk away, but curiosity, as it so often did, got the better of him.

"Why do you need me to relax?" Kurt asked, his blaster raising just slightly. "Sit down."

He wanted her opposite him, so he could watch her every move.

Kurt might not have been the best Soldier, he might have played the fool, but he wasn't an idiot. This woman had tried to kill him, or at least knock him unconscious, he would take every precaution that he could if he was going to keep dealing with her.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Not wanting to end up with a hole in her relatively new synthskin, in much the same way some rich woman might not want a hole in a new jacket, B14 complied rather quickly, crossing her right leg over her left as she sat down on the couch, arms folded under her chest with a frown. "Alright, boss, what do you want me to do now - roll over?" She asked, shaking her head. Maybe trying to choke the man out with her legs hadn't been the best idea - though she had to be honest, it was certainly the most thrilling of the options she had. Unfortunately that little mistake, running as close to erring as possible and failing, was probably going to take its toll. Of course she wasn't particularly certain if a single blaster bolt would be as lethal to her as it would to a normal human girl, or really any biological entity, but she wasn't going to risk the chance he might shoot her in the head and compromise the droid brain stored inside.

The way he looked at her was kind of unnerving, kind of like the way a little boy that had been playing with a wild animal might look if he had suddenly been snapped at and turned the situation back around on it. Blinking a few times, the expression on his face was exactly that - the same kind of expression that was flashburned into her skull to ignore. It didn't stop her from being put a bit on edge, it was part of the conditioning after all, but she couldn't help but stare back as he looked at her. "What? Enjoy the view?" B14 asked sardonically. Knowing the way he had been perverse enough to be aroused from the leg-locked choke, he probably was. The situation was a bit bleak, but, maybe with ample prodding she could get things back under control. Maybe get out of here with clothes on her back again and money to spend. Right now the goal was to get away from this guy.

[member="Kurt Meyer"]

 

[Kurt Meyer]

[member="Bianca"]

Most of his good cheer had been lost by now, the smile on his face just being a twisted remnant of his own humor.

The Courier's eyes held fast on the woman, trying to figure out who, or exactly what she was. Kurt often played the fool, pretending to be dumber than he actually was, taking nothing seriously, poking fun and just cracking jokes, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew that whatever this woman appeared to be was a lie. For starters her legs, though nice, were hardly in the shape to crack his skull like she had been doing, her weight was completely off for her size and build, and the look in her eyes seemed somewhat...well, inhuman.

It was hard to believe, something that he hadn't quite noticed, but the edge that now carried in her voice was another thing that just seemed off. He frowned slightly, his finger tracing along the side of his head as a pounding ache began to fill his temples. The hand on his blaster tightened slightly, weary of her jumping at him. "Why don't you tell me exactly why you were trying to kill me?"

She hadn't been, or she said she hadn't been, but that was hardly enough proof for him.

The Courier was all for a bit of near deadly fun now and then, but that required a little bit of...restraint. He wasn't entirely sure that this woman hadn't intended on killing him, and if that was true...well he'd like to at least know the reason why before he got the kark off this planet and left her behind in the dust.

 

[Ellie Mors]

She could feel the scrutiny that he was putting her through just by the look on his face and the silent stare he subjected her to before he answered her question. Why was she trying to kill him, he asks? Well, internally, she wondered at first - a bit sarcastically, via internal monologue - if he paid attention to a word she had said. Maybe she had been a bit too assertive with how hard she'd squeezed, maybe he wasn't knocked out right away - what can she say, those tickling sensations because of his fast-moving tongue was indescribable, though she wouldn't concede as much - but she most certainly wasn't going to kill someone that didn't need to be killed. She very clearly had rented the room with him, there were many people in the bar-club-thing that would have put her face to the crime of his death, even if it might get brushed aside (it is Nar Shaddaa, right?).

That meant wanted posters, even if they were cheap. Wanted posters meant fame, fame meant infamy, and infamy meant people knew her as a killer before she could actually do what she was programmed to do - assassinate. If she killed him, here, it meant the end of the line for her and a surefire route to decommissioning. That meant permanent shut-down, power down, retirement. "Retirement" in a storage unit with her memory banks uploaded to the company servers, and her droid brain recycled for a new model. For a droid, that was death. She was a droid, she had one purpose thus-far until her sale could be secured. That meant killing him wasn't an option. She ran this reasoning through her head hundreds of times, but she couldn't very well explain it to him. She couldn't tell him she was just a machine, made to kill high-profile targets. That he was just a training exercise for her.

But now he was a loose end. Someone that would put her face to a name, one she'd actually grown a bit attached to, and could recognize her anywhere. Who forgets someone they believe tried to kill them? This certainly put her in a tough position to move forwards - hovering between a rock and a hard place. Tell the truth, not only would he probably not believe she wasn't trying to kill him, but he'd probably just shoot her. Most people were of that mind with droids. Or maybe he'd out her to the media, blab about her identity - of machines that were infiltrating humanity and other species as replica assassins. If she avoided the question, he'd know. She could tell by now, she thought anyways, that he'd at least notice if she tried to change the subject.

"Watching a guy pass out really gets my gears turning." She replied, flatly.

Internally she cringed at the "gear" metaphor, though she didn't show it, and watched his face for a reaction.

He got off on being strangled, why wouldn't he believe that she got off on strangling him? Two sides of the same coin, no?

[member="Kurt Meyer"]