The End Of The Galaxy

[Darth Empyrean]

“You’re probably right on all counts.”

The Slave watched him speak with a faint idleness, letting him finish before speaking up himself. He scratched slightly at the soft skin of his cheek, before speaking up once more;

“Regardless, he’s the one I need; and you’ll be my bargaining chip, Jorus.”

Slowly standing, he groaned under his breath and moved through the darkness to a distant bar table, grabbing some clear liquid; pouring it into a glass with glass, and sipped it with a faint hum. Coming back to sit, he glanced back to Jorus and raised a brow;

“How much do you think your worth in poker terms? Its easier for me to understand.”

[member="Jorus Merrill"] │ [member="Sidon Eshe"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="The Slave"] [member="Sidon Eshe"]

"Poker? My game's sabacc, and I'm the Idiot. Worth zero, except in really rare, really specific moments. When those come around, the Idiot will wipe the floor with everything else in play. Now, Eshe here and common sense will tell you I've been pretty fething compliant so far. So let me tell you a story, since you wanna talk about chips.

"I went to Canto Bight once for a tournament. Looked around the table, rat's nest of high rollers. One kept their chips in a locked case, one in a big pile, one tucked inside their clothes, one in some kind of natural pouch by their gills. The rest of us tried to play like normal, but there was gill-snot all over those chips. The gal with the gills won and then got banned from the high-stakes room for life. Moral of the story? You want to be real careful how you play with your chips."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave watched him speak, but his hand continued to massage his temple. As Jorus finished, he offered a faint smile and a cock of his brow;

“Seems to me like she won. Are you implying you want to be covered in snot?”

He chuckled lightly before queiting himself down for the sake of pain in his head. A small groan later, and he was back to drinking the water he had poured previously, only a little more heartening than before.

“At the end of the day, Jorus, you’re only worth to me as much as Velok thinks you’re worth. Your life is in his hands, not mine.”, he said as he began to sit back down.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say before we stuff you in a force cage?”, he said with a quiet consideration through the darkness.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="The Slave"]

"You? Nah. This guy? Sure." Jorus fished a flimsiplast business card from his pocket. Both card and pocket had seen better days.

THE WRETCHED HIVE
MECHANIC AND AFTERMARKET
CPT. J.Q. MERRILL, PROPRIETOR

He put the business card on the coffee table and glanced over his shoulder at [member="Sidon Eshe"]. "Now that you're off the clock, package delivered, call me sometime."

In and for a heartbeat, the blue-white radiance of hyperspace filled the room. Wind roared for just a moment longer, tossing the business card and the coffee table.

In the afterimage and the calm, Jorus was gone. So was the chair, whose legs had left acceleration marks on the floor. All things considered, he'd flown worse.

 

[Chance Bonaventure]

Sidon stood for a moment. He simply looked at the empty space, deep marks from the chair legs etched into the metallic floor. The card left by Jorus had landed nearby, to which the Hunter walked over and picked it up. He flipped it over in his fingers, checked it out, then slid it into his armor. Turning to the Slave, Sidon shook his helmeted head...

"Well, looks like you’re covered in snot, kid," The Hunter said simply, before he turned to the battle droid nearby. "And it’s always a pleasure, Cybele. But the next time you want meat delivered, consider a delivery service... we may have a sponsorship, but that doesn’t mean I’m property to use as a personal enforcer. The deal was clear; you create the tech, I use it and expand your brand. I don’t fetch at your whim."

With a grunt, Sidon walked out of the meeting area, heading back to his ship. He wondered where Jorus had ended up, and whether he would even survive the trip - on a chair no less. Smirking, the Hunter boarded the craft and was soon making for Nar Shaddaa...

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave watched Jorus disappear, sighing slightly as he glanced to Sidon picking up the business card and make whatever comment he had to. Muttering something under his breath, he spoke to the bounty hunter through gritted teeth;

“I think you should reread your contract, Sidon.”

As the door shut, The Slave found another seat near a holonet computer; letting it light up the darkness with little regard for his hangover. A few taps later, and he had the contact information for a few people he needed to speak with; though the disappointment was clear. It wasn’t often he was humiliated, but leave it to an explorer to do just that.

It’d seem he’d just have to go with Plan B.

[member="Sidon Eshe"] │ [member="Jorus Merrill"]