Private The Escort Mission

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — In a dangerous Mood

"I'm certainly due for a change in scenery."

Outfit: Something that used to be Nice

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Detention Wing | Level 9-A

The lighting in the cell was aggressively bright, as though someone thought sterile fluorescence could bleach away corruption. It glared off the pale pink of Xoff’s skin and the dull silver of his restraints—cheap plastoid cuffs that reeked of irony, considering he used to buy their manufacturer wholesale.

He had been here for twenty-six days. Twenty-six days, nine hours, and—he glanced at the embedded chrono in his optic-ring—thirty-eight minutes.

They hadn’t charged him. They hadn’t released him. He existed in bureaucratic limbo, a legal ghost held under “protective detention” by people too polite to say hostage. The interrogators came in pairs. Always smiling. Always offering caf, or a chance to “clarify a few things.” They asked about Whottoomuzz. About spice routes. About his daughter.

He never broke. He didn’t need to. The only thing weaker than a flimsi charge sheet was the Alliance’s stomach for war with a kajidic.

Still, the waiting had worn him thin.

He’d begun counting things to stay sharp. Number of tiles on the floor. Number of breaths between guard shifts. Number of times he’d rewritten his next public statement in his head. The press would eat it up: the unjustly held, unflinchingly elegant husband of a major underworld power, freed without so much as an apology. The gravity of restraint. The triumph of dignity under duress. Maybe he’d wear white for the holocams.

The sound of boots echoed in the corridor.

He adjusted the collar of his robe, smooth despite weeks of wear, and sat up straighter. He’d kept his posture, even in here. Let them see he hadn’t cracked. He hadn’t begged. He hadn’t wept, no matter how long they left the lights on at night.

Someone new was coming. He could feel it. Not another blank-faced officer or honey-throated interrogator. There was a rhythm to the approach—something young in the stride, uncertain, a little too casual for military protocol.

He didn’t know who the Alliance was sending, but he knew how he’d greet them.

He exhaled slowly, letting just a whisper of pheromones spill into the stale air. A familiar ritual. A quiet reclamation of space.

If he was being paraded out, he would smile. If they thought they’d kept him waiting, he would remind them: he was not the one on trial. He never had been.

Xoff Chantin would walk out on his own two feet.
Head high.
Back straight.
And he would remember everything.

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Fondor
SIA Headquarters
Nondescript Meeting Room
Tag: Xoff Chantin

Junior sighed and did another revolution in the swivel chair that was positioned, along with a few others, around the oval shaped table in a nondescript meeting room in the bowels of the SIA Headquarters. He’d received orders this morning to report to said meeting room by Colonel Spruance, the 82nd’s commanding officer, and so far he’d been waiting relatively patiently for the last forty-five minutes.

It would take another five minutes of waiting before finally two people entered the room, one Human male and a Zeltron female. The Zeltron approached first with a sickly sweet smile and a perfectly manicured and extended hand. “Lieutenant Corek I presume?” Junior, being polite, lightly gripped her hand and then his nose scrunched as his heightened sense of smell, thanks to his half Zorren parentage, caught the unmistakable scent of Zeltron pheromones.

“That I am and you can cut the pheromones…they don’t work too well on me.” As soon as she processed the words the Zeltron’s smile morphed into a smirk. “I suspected as such Lieutenant, just wanted to test that. I’m Agent Sokolovka and my companion here is Agent Beattie. We’ll skip the pleasantries and go straight to business. Tell us what you know about the Hutt Cartels.”

An eyebrow was raised at this question but he wasn’t surprised that the SIA was interested in the Hutts. “Historically one of the most powerful criminal organizations in the galaxy. Their split between multiple different Kajidic, or more commonly known as family’s, with the older kajidic like the Hestilic, Desilijic, Besadii and Anjiliac holding more power than others and often being on the ruling Hutt council. Kajidic doesn’t actually translate to ‘family’ in Huttese, directly translated it means ‘Somebody's got to have it. Why not us?’. Pretty accurate if you ask me.”

It was the other agents' turn to speak. “Your records indicate before you were commissioned into the GADF Army that you worked as a freelance mercenary. During this time did you ever work for the Hutts?” Junior was somewhat hesitant to answer, unsure if this was some kind of trap. “Don’t worry Lieutenant, none of your answers today will be held against you.” He was calmed by this but nodded none the less.

“While I generally tried to avoid working for them there were a few times when credits were tight that I couldn’t be too…particular about who I worked for so yeah, two or three jobs mostly acting a freelance muscle.” This answer seemed to perk the interest of the agents and tossed a file on the table, an actual folder with flimsi documents.

Junior leafed through the documents and raised an eyebrow. In it was a mission briefing, details of how his cover would be established and who’d he report to from here on out. Closing the file he looked back to the agents and it was the Zeltron who spoke. “Any questions Lieutenant?” Junior made an act of thinking about her question before answering. “One: When do I start?”

---

The mission was rather simple on the surface. Escort one Xoff Chantin, info broker and crime lord, back to his spouse Whottomuzz Chnatin. Of course simple was never in the cards for Junior as the mission was in fact two fold, one was the surface level and second was to keep tabs on the Chantin kajidic, from the inside.

This was how he found himself in the employ now of the SIA and no longer under the rigid hierarchy of the GADF, something he’d been laboring under for the last five years and was kind of glad to be out from under.

Walking down the hall of the detention level he finally came face to face with his charge and target,the second part known only to himself and the SIA. The ray shield kept the two of them separated and Junior took a moment to look the Xoff up and down. He was cute, Junior was confident enough to admit that and speaking of confidence the Zeltron also exuded that even cuffed and imprisoned.

“Xoff Chantin I presume?” The question didn’t need an actual answer since they both knew it already. “I’m Noah Corek. I’ve been assigned to return you home. You’ll be release here in a few after the flimsiwork is processed…just wanted to introduce myself since we’ll be together for the foreseeable future.”

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — In a Curious Mood

"You can lead the way, darling—I'll play along"

Outfit: Something Nice

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Detention Level | Cellblock 9-A
Tag: Noah Corek Jr.

The ray shield hummed low between them, casting blue light across the polished cuffs around Xoff’s wrists. Xoff didn’t rise. Not yet. Let him get the full view—Zeltron grace, perfectly draped robes, not a thread out of place despite a month in state-sanctioned purgatory. His wrists, bound in dull plastoid cuffs, rested delicately atop his knee. A practiced pose. One part martyr, two parts seduction.

The Zeltron lifted his head slowly, lavender eyes catching the light. He studied the man—tall, crisp uniform, squared shoulders, that youthfully rigid spine—then smiled with just enough softness to make it feel private.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said, voice smooth as Nerfcream silk. “No dark suit. No electro-baton. No lecture on the ‘privilege of release.’” His tone danced the line between amusement and weariness, practiced just enough to suggest depth without confirming it.

He’s already trying not to look too long. Half-Zorren or not, he still has blood in his cheeks. Still has eyes.

Then he let the pause hang… and in the stillness, he tilted his head, just slightly.

“Corek.... the younger one?"

Daddy’s name, Daddy’s war record, Daddy’s shadow. So tragic. So easy.

The name was already obvious. He said it anyway. Said it softly. Like a connoisseur identifying a vintage. Xoff was an info broker, after all. Though he never expected to meet this one here.

Xoff’s gaze flicked from Junior's jawline to his eyes. He rose at last, slow and fluid. Even bound, his movements had the elegance of someone who refused to acknowledge restraint. He stepped forward—just shy of the ray shield—and offered a faint smile, subdued but unmistakably charming.

“For what it’s worth,” he added, “I appreciate the courtesy. Most people open with a threat or a question.”
His eyes lingered. Longer this time. Not shy about it.
“You introduced yourself.”

He let the silence settle. Drew in a breath. Let just a whisper of pheromones leak into the air—subtle, restrained, not enough to overwhelm, just enough to warm the skin.

“That means either you’re polite, or you’re nervous. Either way…” He exhaled slowly, barely perceptible pheromones brushing the air like perfume teased from a sleeve. "That"s the appropriate reaction. Don't worry, I’ll be gentle.”

His smile widened just enough to register before fading back into composed neutrality.

“You said something about release?” he asked, lifting his bound hands with elegance and absolutely no urgency. “I assume you’ll be the one taking me home.” Be honest, Lieutenant was this job a reward or your punishment?”

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Detention Level - Cellblock 9-A
Xoff Chantin

Junior let his eyes linger on the section of exposed pink skin that the Zeltron’s current outfit allowed him to see, one part practiced evaluation and two parts openly admiring the vision before him. He was no fool; he knew what this specific entity was capable of, the dossier actually very detailed for once.

His green eyes took in the lavender ones that took in the lights of the cell. He’d wished he’d been allowed to wear something a little more flattering than his uniform for this part but he was playing a part and would do so to even his detriment to ingratiate himself.

He found that not only was Xoff easy on the eyes but his voice was melodic as well, an eyebrow raised at the words that spilled from pink lips. “And what exactly were you expecting?” A sly smirk piqued the corner of his mouth as he took a more casual stance and he snorted when Xoff spoke of what he expected.

“Well that is most likely because your previous interactions were with the SIA…I’m not SIA. I’m GADF Army. They’ve, for the lack of a better term, washed their hands of you and have dumped you and your safety onto us.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m just a soldier, lectures don’t really do anything for me, action is where my skills lay.”

His jaw involuntarily grit when his older namesake was mentioned, having done much in his time to try and distance himself from his father it seemed even now in this place and situation his fathers fame dogged him. “That would be correct, I guess you could say my introduction wasn’t completely honest, my full name is Noah Corek Jr.”

He leaned against the wall and watched as Xoff rose. “I’m surprised you know my father, most people I’ve met know of him but not details like he’s got a son named after him…though I can’t imagine you’ve ever met the man.” He was fishing for what Xoff’s thoughts on his namesake was. Was it germain to the mission? No but he would admitted to himself he was curious.

He raised an eyebrow as the Zeltron stopped short of the ray shield, the height difference between the two now on display, Junior looking down towards Xoff’s feet and scanning his entire body once more before speaking. “I haven’t always worked in such a…structured environment. I know the upsides of building rapport with a subject before actually trying to get what you want…” He left the ‘what you want’ to Xoff’s imagination.

He chuckled slightly when he caught the smile that ever so quickly faded back to neutrality before reaching and deactivating the ray shield before his hand fished a keycard out of his pockets and withdrew a keycard before slotting it into the center of the cuffs, his hand ever so gently gripping one pink wrist, and releasing Xoff from them.

He nodded in assent to the deduction that he would be transporting Xoff home. “That would be correct. We’ll be taking my personal starship, keep you out of the official Alliance database. We know your spouse has enemies and your safe return is our utmost priority.” Was he laying it on a little thick? Maybe but he was playing the part.

He laughed when whether this was a punishment or a reward was brought into question. “It was billed as a punishment. Got a little too happy on leave and they dumped this on me…though I’m starting to see the upsides.” Stepping to the side of the cell door he would allow Xoff to enter the hall behind him and gestured for him to follow. “Come on, faster we get you outprocessed the faster you can get home.”

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — In a Curious Mood

"You can call it business, darling—I'll play along"

Outfit: Something Nice
Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Detention Level – Cellblock 9-A
Tag: Noah Corek Jr.

When the ray shield dropped, Xoff didn’t move at first. Again.

He watched the boy—no, the man—reach for him. Calm. Controlled. And yet there was the faintest tension in the hand that brushed his wrist. Not fear. Not attraction. Restraint. The kind of restraint you only bothered with around something dangerous. Or desirable. Xoff was both.

Xoff smiled, soft and tired. Not coy, Not provocative.

Good. He believes he’s in control. That’s the best place to start.

“You have a careful touch,” he said gently, watching Noah’s hand linger on the cuffs. “That’s rare. Most people in your position want to prove something with how they handle you. A little extra pressure in the wrist. A firmer grip on the leash.”

His tone was quiet. Unthreatening. Even comforting, a rather sudden shift from the initial onslaught. Xoff had found something to target, a more refined approach.

“You don’t need to prove anything.”

As he stepped into the hallway, he moved close enough to brush sleeves but didn’t linger. He didn’t need to. Instead, he adjusted his robe with a flick of the cuff and fell into step beside his escort with smooth, unhurried grace.

They walked in silence for a moment. The kind that Xoff knew how to weaponize—not awkward, but contemplative. He gave Noah space to speak first… and then filled it when he didn’t.

“I wasn’t being cruel about your name,” he said softly. “Most legacies are cages with different kinds of bars. You wear yours like someone who picked the lock but stayed inside anyway.”

A break from the flirtation — a glimpse into something that at least appeared to have more depth than obvious weaponized attraction. Of which, apparently, the GADf had briefed his escort.

It was something deeper. Something deliberately personal. A quiet statement that said I see you—without demanding anything in return.

“I was my mother’s investment,” he added lightly. “Trained, polished, made useful. And when I was no longer useful, she sold my name to a Hutt.”

He didn’t look at Noah as he said it. He kept walking. Kept his voice steady, like he wasn’t trying to win sympathy. It wasn't even true — just adjacent. It skipped over the... ugly parts... in the years after being sold and before being wedded to the hutt.

“People like you… you don’t need commanding officers or handlers or SIA agents.” He glanced over, just briefly. “forgive me if this is too personal, but you need someone who knows when to listen. To see past the uniform.”

A beat. His eyes softened.

"Well... If you need to talk, I won’t complain.”

He smiled again. Warmer, now. Not seductive—reassuring. And behind it, beneath it, something far more dangerous was blooming: the illusion that he understood Noah Jr — no, just Junior — better than anyone else did.

And once someone believed that…

Xoff's pace quickened with an almost subtle sashays of his hips.

…they rarely stopped.

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Detention Level - Cellblock 9-A
Tag: Xoff Chantin

Junior would be a liar if he said he hadn’t blushed just slightly when Xoff mentioned his ‘careful touch’ when he uncuffed him, eyes darting down to met the shorter man’s eyes before shrugging. “Before I joined the army I did a stint as a bounty hunter and mercenary, learned quickly that sometimes a little common decency goes a long way when you’re taking someone in…or out in this case.”

He followed beside Xoff as they strode down the hallway, past cells and ray shields where some of the prisoners sneered at Junior and cat called Xoff, the second action receiving a glare from the redhead from which many of the prisoners shrunk from.

He heard Xoff’s statement about his name and gave a shrug to it. “Most know who my father is so I’ve become used to it.” An eyebrow was raised at the metaphor about cages and legacies. “I’ll admit…I wanted to distance myself from my father but found myself falling into the same type of profession he did at my age…” He gave a contemplative look forward, as if looking off into the distance and think hard on his own words.

He was brought back to reality when Xoff spoke of his own past and parentage, of which Junior had been briefed on, a fact he was sure Xoff already knew. “I’ll admit…I read your file before coming here so I am well aware of your…situation before Whottomuzz. Admittedly I can't say I can relate to your past experiences but that doesn’t mean I can't at least…”

After speaking he sent a small smile Xoff’s way and an eyebrow was raised again. “I do have to say I enjoyed my time as an independent contractor much more than I enjoy what I do know…but they both have their upsides.”

When Xoff offered his ear to talk to Junior was surprised, he knew the information broker what the information broker was trying to do and if he’d been weak willed he might have fallen for it or maybe that what he wanted himself to think. “Thank you…that’s very nice of you…”

When their pace quickened Junior found his eyes drawn to Xoff’s hips before immediately having to steal his gaze away and keep it forward and remind himself what he needed to be doing. He decided to speak to keep himself occupied. “The flimsiwork has already been filed, all we need to do is pick up your belongings they are holding and we should be good to get to the spaceport. Anything you need to pick up before we leave Fondor?”

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — Right Where he wants Him

"On second thought, a change of clothes would be nice"

Outfit: Something Nice
Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Transit Hall | Approaching Evidence Processing
Tag: Noah Corek Jr.

Xoff heard the blush in Junior’s voice, the way the boy spoke like he was backpedaling through gravel—"common decency," "independent contractor," all those careful disclaimers that meant he felt something. A flicker of reaction. A little spark. Not just to Xoff, but to the attention. To being seen.

He’s already afraid of enjoying this too much. That’s the real tell.

When the catcalls came from the other cells, Xoff didn’t react—not outwardly. He let Junior do it for him. That glare, that little display of protective fire. It earned him a slow sidelong glance, appreciative in the same way one might observe an unfamiliar but beautiful species behaving as expected.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed,” Xoff said at last, his tone low and calm, like something woven from heat and velvet. “Falling into the same profession as your father doesn’t mean you’re trapped in his shape. You haven’t been hardened by it. Not yet.”

A pause. Not long. Just enough to feel like space for a heartbeat.

“That softness… the part of you that still looks away when it feels too much? That’s yours. Not his. Don’t give it away so quickly.”

He didn’t push harder. Just let the words hang between them like perfume in warm air.

When Junior thanked him, Xoff offered a soft smile—not gloating, not seductive. Compassionate. The kind of smile that said of course you can talk to me, without needing to say it aloud.

Never ask for trust. Let them believe it was their idea.

“Nothing on Fondor I’ll miss,” he said, tone returning to neutral as they neared the checkpoint. “Though I wouldn't say no to a stop at a tailor for a change of wardrobe; But thank you for asking. That’s twice now. You’d be surprised how rare that is.”

He stepped ahead slightly as the corridor curved, letting his robe sway with the movement—graceful, seemingly not provocative. He could feel Junior’s gaze slip. It always did—along the hem of the robe, the shape beneath it, the way the fabric clung a little too well at the sway of his hips.

Xoff didn’t look back.

Didn’t need to.

But his voice came gently, almost offhand:

“Careful, darling,” he murmured. “If you keep watching me like that, someone might get the wrong idea.”

A pause.

“Or worse... the right one.”

His smile returned when he finally glanced back—half innocent, half amused. He could feel Noah’s gaze brush his back before snapping forward again.

Xoff didn’t smirk. Just said softly:

“You have a good heart, Junior. Be careful who you let sharpen it.”

And with that, he reached the evidence desk, hands folded neatly, every inch the poised, cooperative passenger.

But inside?

He was already building a room in the back of Noah Corek Jr.’s mind—

A brief glance. Eye contact through thick eyelashes.

—and making himself at home.

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Evidence Processing
Tags: Xoff Chantin

Junior was indeed worried that even so close to the start of his mission he was beginning to enjoy this maybe a little too much. Like any Mandalorian he sought out challenges and reveled in them, in particular battle but much like the rest of his clan he didn’t just seek battle but sought to challenge himself in other ways and that was indeed what was going on with the mental and verbal spar between him and Xoff.

He took in Xoff’s words and let out a low chuckle. “Falling into the same profession was actually an act of rebellion to be honest. My parents didn’t want me to join up at all. My father because of his own experiences and my mother’s because they thought it was beneath me…the only way I got at least a semblance of acceptance was agreeing to commission as an officer instead of enlisting like I had originally intended…”
He smiled when Xoff spoke of his softness and chuckled as he shook his head. “Heh, that’s the first time anyone’s ever accused me of being soft. As for it being mine I’d agree with you from your perspective…but I’ve seen a side of my father most haven’t seen but I’ll leave it at that.”

When the prospect of visiting a tailor was brought up he thought very quickly before nodding. “Well…I do know a tailor in the local Mandalorian enclave on Fondor who owes me a favor…it might not be as fashionable as you’re used to but it’ll be much more practical.”

An eyebrow was raised at the obvious flirtatious words that came from Xoff about him watching. “And what exactly would be the right idea? I’m curious.” He chuckled and shook his head yet again. “And yet another thing someone’s never accused me of before…you do like complimenting don’t you?”

They made it to the checkpoint and were quickly waved through, coming into a small, nondescript and almost sterile room with a storage room and a desk at one where a bored looking Duros sat and waved the two over. Without even speaking the Duros shoved a clipboard with a few flimsi forms on them towards Xoff with one hand and handed him a pen with the other before also unceremoniously placing a box on the table before opening it to reveal Xoff’s possessions.

“Look over your possessions and sign in the highlighted spaces.” The tone that came out was almost as bored as his face. Junior placed himself nearby, leaning against a wall and observing the situation, waiting to step in if needed.

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — In a sudden Mood

"Good things come to those who wait."

Outfit: Something Nice
Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Evidence Processing
Tag: Noah Corek Jr.

He’s smiling more often now.

That was the first thing Xoff noted, glancing briefly at the way Noah’s lips curved as they walked. Smiling, teasing, chasing shadows in my words like they matter more than the mission. He wasn’t trying to flirt anymore. Not really. He was trying to impress, or at least not fumble.

Good. That means he’s started to care about what I think.

He let Junior's retort about rebellion hang unchallenged, nodding softly—listening, not voicing validation. It was important the boy kept talking. Every answer opened a door.

When the compliment question came—

…you do like complimenting don’t you?”

—Xoff didn’t slow his step. He chuckled, warm and quiet.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Curiosity leads to all sorts of interesting mistakes," he murmured, eyes forward, letting the silence that followed thicken like mist. It wasn't rejection that bled through the Zeltron's empathic beacon. Not sudden disinterest, just absence. A small stretch of emotional distance after the line about compliments. I Junior's defence, it was playful, lightly defensive. That was when Xoff pivoted.

“You’ve been starved of them, haven’t you?”

The words were soft still, but measured. Observational.

“I don’t flatter, Noah. Just observe. There is a difference.”

He didn’t elaborate. Left that truth hanging, beside the use of just his first name.

They reached the evidence room. Fluorescents buzzed overhead. The Duros behind the desk didn’t bother to make eye contact. It was all so dreary. Bureaucracy had a smell—stale air and recycled disappointment.

Xoff stepped to the table, lifted the clipboard with careful hands, and scanned the forms with the same attentiveness he gave people. His fingers moved gracefully over the flimsi, then reached into the box.

Inside was a folded silk scarf, a low-profile datachip case, and a few slim rings. He lifted the scarf first, running a thumb along its edge. Not precious. But personal.

His voice dropped just a little as he said, almost to himself:

“Still folded the way I packed it. I suppose I should be grateful they didn’t pawn it off.”

He didn’t look back up to Junior yet. Not yet. Too soon still.

Then, gently, he placed it aside and signed the form in the highlighted fields.

When it was done, he turned—but not with a smile. With something quieter. Still. A little distant.

“You said earlier you knew a tailor,” he said, shifting the topic back with perfect ease. “You didn’t have to offer. You chose to.”

A slow breath. A beat passed.

“I observed that too.”

That should have been the moment for a smile. A thank you. A soft touch.

But Xoff gave him none of it.

Instead, he tilted his head and studied Noah’s face for just a second longer than polite.

Then walked past him—cool, composed, unreadable—toward the exit.

As he passed the threshold, he spoke softly over his shoulder, finally making eye contact again, golden discs behind black lashes – as fickle as they were alluring.

“Be careful, Noah.”

A pause. A ghost of warmth.

“Not everyone rewards loyalty the way I do.”

And then he was gone from the room, silk scarf in hand, leaving silence and a subtle ache in his absence.

The ache came from behind the emotional suppression, the distance Xoff had created. He barely managed to control his pheromones from giving a hint and ruining the whole thing.

He had to resist every urge in himself to keep the mysterious edge, to not to give it away in his body language.

Chase after me, you big lug

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Evidence Processing
Tags: Xoff Chantin

Junior was indeed smiling more, despite the circumstances he found himself more and more happy, not knowing if it was the pheromones Xoff was producing or just the words that he was speaking or perhaps even both. He found himself thinking before speaking, caring and curating his words so that they might be more…appealing for Xoff to hear.

He followed next to Xoff in silence and raised an eyebrow as it was broken, brows perking up at his words about mistakes. “Well…I find in life very few interesting things happen when they go the way we planned them…”

The distance that grew between them was obvious to even the most socially blind as they finally made it to evidence processing and Xoff mentioned being starved of compliments. “I’ll admit…time in the army doesn’t lend on to having much in the…positive reinforcement category…been awhile since someone has actually complimented me for a job well done.”

When the distinction between flattering and observing was brought up but not explained he mentally shrugged, knowing well the distinction between the two but letting it linger between them.

Junior observed Xoff from his position leaning against the wall as he went though his belongings and the paperwork. The SIA had thoroughly searched the possessions and found them not germane to the mission. The datadisc in the case didn’t contain anything that they didn’t already know or couldn’t have pieced together themselves, the rings were purely ornamental and even gaudy in one’s opinion and the scarf was simply that…a scarf.

It was however Xoff’s reaction to the scarf that caught Junior’s attention, the Zeltron handling it not in a loving or caring way but in a way that distinctly came off to Junior as a personal item.

When Xoff turned back to face him Junior raised an eyebrow at the expression that was across his face…or more correctly the lack of one, seemingly more distant than he had been the entire time they had been conversing.

Again he spoke of observing things and Junior’s interest was piqued just a bit more and expected a thanks or something of the like but was surprised when nothing of the sort came, finding himself somewhat wanting to hear that from Xoff.

Just as he was studying, so too did he study, looking over Xoff and his face to try and discern any bit of information, intent or emotion behind those golden eyes but was surprised when he found none that he could pull, a first for him.

And then the Zeltron walked right past him and to the door, pausing there before throwing one more verbal snipe, or at least that’s what Junior took it as, before passing over the threshold and out of the room.

Junior found himself a little…disappointed to not have been given anything to go on and found himself missing the presence of the Zeltron and so he unwittingly fell right into the trap that had been set and chased after the pink-skinned seducer. “Hey! Wait up!”

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — In a Passionate Mood

Outfit: Something Nice
Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility — Hall Outside Evidence Processing
Tag: Noah Corek Jr.

Xoff stopped holding his breath when he heard the voice. He let the footsteps close the space between them first—let the boy commit to the chase.

There it is.
That little flutter of validation.
That ache of disappointment blossoming into pursuit.

He masked the quiet satisfaction with a measured breath, adjusting the scarf he’d retrieved from the box with slow, languid fingers. When he finally looked back over his shoulder, it was with a touch of surprise. Well-practiced, of course.

“You called?,” he said, warm and soft, playing ignorant of his own games.

He didn’t smile yet.

Instead, he let his eyes settle on Junior’s face—on the faint tension in his brow, the breath he’d clearly held just a moment longer than he needed to. That, more than the words, told him everything.

Xoff spoke gently, taking a step closer. “I'm... glad that you did. Came after me, I mean.”

His hand rose—not to touch, not quite. He reached as though to adjust the scarf, but paused before making contact.

“May I?”

Permission. Always ask for it once you know they’ll say yes.

If granted, he stepped in close enough to be felt. Not overwhelming—inviting. He wrapped and smoothed the scarf across Junior's shoulders. He was showing how softness could be worn, not earned.

“There,” he murmured, fingers brushing fabric. “Something lovely deserves to be seen properly.”

A heartbeat. Then two.
Xoff's smile finally returned, looking up to Junior's eyes. A touch of sincerity.
Then he stepped back.
The air cooled again. Subtle. Intentional.

Xoff folded his hands behind his back as he turned to walk again, his posture straight and serene.

“I like that you came after me,” he said, without looking back. “But let’s not make a habit of it...”

Another beat. Xoff let the thrill of the game slip through his emotions. A faster pulse. A dilation of the eyes. An increase in pheromonal output. A sly whisper of warmth at the edge of his voice:

“...Make me want to wait instead.”

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility-Hall Outside Evidence Processing
Tags: Xoff Chantin

Junior’s footfalls were heavy from the boots he wore as he all but chased down the Zeltron and only stopped when he was a half step behind him. He chuckled to himself as he saw the look of surprise on Xoff’s face, knowing all too well that it was a game he was playing but one that Junior was more than happy to play along with.

He chuckled again when he was asked if he had called and shook his head. “You play the game very well Mr. Chantin…” He almost whispered the words as he strode next to Xoff and raised an eyebrow when the Zeltron mentioned him gladness.

“Well I’m your escort, couldn’t very well let your pretty head get kidnapped now could I?” Was he perhaps stepping over a line with the word ‘pretty’? Maybe but he wanted Xoff to know he wasn’t the only one who could play the game.

When the scarf was motioned towards him Junior was surprised but nodded in assent, leaning down to help Xoff be able to reach. He let the scarf be placed around his shoulders, taking in an inhale that allowed him to catch his scent, nice despite his time in a cell.

Standing back up to his full height he looked down at Xoff with a smile, green orbs meeting golden discs as they stood there in the moment, Junior returning the smile, before it was ended by Xoff turning to walk away once again, Junior following behind until he caught back up, his legs significantly longer.

They walked in silence until Xoff spoke again and he chuckled. “Well I’m well known for chasing down the beauties but I’ll try to…adjust my habits.” When he spoke about wanting to make Xoff wait he grinned and his eyes darted over to Xoff. “And what exactly do you want to be waiting for?”

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — Dressed to Impress

Fondor
Hall Outside Evidence Processing
Tag: Noah Corek Jr.

He could hear the smile in Junior’s voice before he saw it. He let it land—let it rest in the air like cologne, faintly sweet and trying too hard.

“Mmm. ‘Pretty head.’ How gallant.” A slow, deliberate turn of phrase. Not quite a reprimand. Not quite an invitation. He said it with the tone of someone noting an animal’s first successful trick.

But when Junior asked the real question—

“And what exactly do you want to be waiting for?”

—Xoff’s step slowed.

Not stopped. Just slowed. He let the air shift between them again. His pheromones curled just faintly at the edges—arousal, tension, restraint. A flavorless wine poured with meaning, but not yet offered.

He looked ahead as he answered, not giving Junior the benefit of his gaze just yet.

“Oh, I wouldn’t spoil the game that early,” he said with measured smoothness, “but I do enjoy anticipation. You’d be surprised how much harder men work when they think reward is just out of reach.”

A pause. A playful inhale.

Then, finally, he looked back up at Junior.

“Besides... I’m still trying to decide if you’re the sort of man who thrives under pressure...”

His golden gaze flicked downward, then back up—slow, assessing, unashamed. Not overtly seductive, but clinical in its sensuality.

“Or if you’re the type who crumbles when no one’s watching.”

It was both a tease and a test. His voice had gone quieter—just loud enough for Junior to hear, but not enough for anyone else in the hall to catch.

Then—just as quick—Xoff shifted gears, turning the corner ahead of them. Back to business.

“We’re nearly to the exit checkpoint,” he said lightly, as if they hadn’t just exchanged something sharp beneath the surface. “I trust you’re armed. Some people don’t believe in rehabilitation.”

A final glance sideways—half smile, half dare.

“Luckily, I believe in leverage. Now, which direction to that tailor you know?"

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Fondor
Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Hall Outside Evidence Processing
Tags: Xoff Chantin

He chuckled when Xoff spoke and gave the other a deliberately playful smile followed by a just as playful shrug of his shoulders. "I've never heard any complaints about my gallantry before…" He let the word slip with a measure yet deliberate amount of intrigue and meaning before returning his head forward as they walked.

They walked down the hallway in silence for a while, Junior's boots clinking lightly against the durasteel floor, his steps almost deliberately heavy next to Xoff's, as they made their way slowly to the exit with Junior matching the pace set by his companion.

He snorted when Xoff made his intentions of continuing the game they were playing clear, shaking his head with a grin on his face. "Of course not, the whole fun in the game is the chase…" When a reward was brought to the table an eyebrow was raised. "Oh? I didn't realized there was a reward in play…"

His own eyes were drawn down to Xoff and he again when the Zeltron said what he did, an eyebrow raising. "Crumble? Not to boast but I was trained since I was eight years old by two Mandalorian and one Echani parent. At thirteen I was dropped off in the jungles of Saleucami to hunt a Thaelo, a predatory primate, with a single shot slugthrower and a knife. At eighteen I left home and pursued a career in bounty hunting where I took in eighty-nine contracts, completing each one. At twenty-two I joined the Army and have led men and women in combat in seven different campaigns and chalked up thirty-one confirmed skills as a sniper as well…I think I can handle pressure." Junior didn't feel the need to prove himself to the Zeltron but for some reason the 'not boast' came out rather boastful.

And then the two of them were back to business, turning a corner and nearing the exit. Yet again he snorted at the questioning before answering. "I'm a Mandalorian, of course I'm armed."

When the topic of the tailor was brought up he smiled. "It's in the local Mandalorian enclave, locals call it 'Little Sundari' and it's got surprisingly good food as well."

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — In a Passionate Mood

"You can call it business, darling—I'll play along"

Outfit: Something Nice

“You’ve never heard complaints,” Xoff echoed smoothly, his voice teasing just above a whisper, “because you stop listening before they start.”

He glanced sidelong at Junior, lips barely parted in a smile that implied nothing and everything. His stride never faltered, though he took deliberate steps—measured, graceful, just enough to make the faintest sway of his hips feel like punctuation. They moved past another checkpoint corridor, lights sterile and white, bouncing off the polished durasteel floor like reflections in a wineglass.

“Oh, there’s a reward,” he purred, fingers brushing his own jaw as if testing the air for appetite. “But it’s never given. Only taken—with tact. Charm. Teeth, if you're lucky. Or misbehave.”

His hand extended lazily in front of Junior as if drawing an invisible line between them—and crossing it with the gesture itself.

Then—

CRACK-THWIP​

The sound wasn’t dramatic. Not at first.

Just a faint shift of pressure. A whisper of a projectile slipping through a sound baffle. The corridor's artificial breeze suddenly felt colder.

Then came the pain.

Xoff's leg jerked backward like a puppet string had been yanked. He staggered—stumbled—collapsed into the wall with a choked gasp, his hand smearing blood down the durasteel as his knees buckled.

High thigh. Right leg. Through the outer quad, torn beneath the hipbone. The entry wound was smoking. The heat-sealed nerve endings pulsed, twitching as blood hissed against synth-fabric.

“Ah—”

The sound he made was not seductive. It was ragged. Wet. Real.

He tried to stand, fell again, this time into Junior—shoulder thudding into him without grace or intent, a flash of his weight dragging down the illusion of composure like torn silk.

Another bolt screamed past them, vaporizing a wall panel just behind where Xoff’s head had been.

The scream of hallway klaxons triggered—too late.

Guards ducked. Civilians shouted in the distance.

Xoff didn't say anything clever. He was clutching the edge of Junior’s jacket, breath harsh, blood darkening the side of his tailored trousers.

He blinked once, hard, golden eyes flicking up—confused.

There was nothing coy in them anymore.

Just fear and pain.

Noah Corek Jr.​

 

[Noah Corek Jr.]

Tags: Xoff Chantin

A snort emanated from Junior’s nose as he listened to Xoff’s words with more than a small amount of amusement, the game the two were playing now beginning to be enjoyed by him even more than when it had first started, starting to enjoy himself immensely.

“No, I listened to the complaints thoroughly and worked very well to disprove them.” He glanced over and down at the shorter Zeltron with a grin. “It’s just that they tended to be drowned out later in the evening by other words and uh…noises.” His grin widened as his words rolled from his tongue, a wink shot downwards at Xoff.

He laughed at Xoff’s words, not a mocking but an amused laugh before shaking his head with a similarly wide grin before he spoke. “Oh a reward huh? Can’t wait to see it.” An eyebrow was raised when Xoff described the reward and Junior’s tongue darted out to lick his lips he hadn’t realized were dry before speaking. “Teeth eh? Well aren’t you a-”

The words died in his mouth when the noise assaulted his ears. His eyes immediately snapped forward, scanning the various buildings that rose up above the courtyard of the detention center. It didn’t take too long for him to realize who had been the target as Xoff all but collapsed against him.

Looking down as he felt the weight on his left side he quickly observed Xoff’s body now, no longer looking for pleasure but now looking for wounds. There he spotted it, the wound in his upper right, an unmistakable burn entry wound of a blaster bolt.

Before the second shot even sizzled over head he had grabbed the Zeltron around the chest and swiveled him so Junior was now between Xoff and where Junior had deduced the shot had come from. With almost no thought whatsoever his free hand reached beneath the sleeve of his jacket arm and activated the personal shield he kept there for just such occasions.

Barely seconds after three rapid fire bolts slammed into his back but quickly dissipated against the energy field. Junior ignored these bolts and immediately began looking over the wound on Xoff’s leg with determination before looking back at Xoff’s eyes, fear and pain evident in those golden orbs. Barely thinking his hand came to gently cup Xoff’s cheek and he gave him a smile. “Don’t worry, I know it hurts but you’re going to be fine, it missed the femoral artery.”

Looking away from Xoff briefly he glanced toward a guard who was crouched down behind a nearby barrier and shepherding civilians. “Guard! I need a med-kit! NOW!” The guard grimaced and reached for his belt, tossing the kit to Noah without a second thought.

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin — In Pain

"..."

Outfit: Something Nice
Fondor — Galactic Alliance Holding Facility
Hall Outside Evidence Processing
Tag: Noah Corek Jr.

He heard the words—

“Teeth eh? Well aren’t you a-”

And then the world dropped out beneath him.

A sound like a thundercrack behind his ribs. A blossom of heat and raw pressure in his right thigh, cutting bone-deep. The taste of metal. His heel skidded, ankle twisted. Something ripped. Flesh, maybe fabric. His scarf fluttered like a flag as his balance gave way.

Xoff didn’t realize he had screamed until he felt it vibrate in his throat.

His legs buckled, weight folding toward the concrete with a sickly twist—but he didn’t hit it. Arms caught him. Warm arms. Strong arms. His cheek brushed fabric. His vision swam with sunspots and movement and pain.

Pain. Oh stars, the pain—

He tried to laugh. To keep the scene alive. “Told you I liked being swept off my feet...” he murmured, voice thinner than he wanted. “...but you’ll have to forgive me if I—”

His jaw slackened mid-sentence. The next breath hitched. His eyes fluttered, glassy, rimmed with tears that weren’t quite from the pain alone.

He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t hold it anymore.

“—if I’m not...” The words caught. A tremble rippled up his spine. His head lolled against Junior’s chest.

The smell of carbon. Burned synthsilk. The sharp tang of cauterized flesh filled the air. Somewhere in the background, shouting. Weapons fire. The thud of boots.

He felt Junior move—felt the field of a personal shield crackle to life, even as his own awareness dimmed. A voice, firm and close, grounded him:

“Don’t worry, I know it hurts but you’re going to be fine—”

Golden eyes blinked open—barely. Tears tracked down his cheek unbidden. His fingers curled, weakly, into the front of Junior’s uniform.

He tried to speak again. Didn’t. Just nodded. Or maybe twitched. He wasn’t sure anymore.

And somewhere, just beneath the thrum of panic, something cold and final threaded into his thoughts:

They found me. Which means... Whottoomuzz is dead.

The thought burned deeper than the wound. Something in Xoff's heart froze.

Jobbi's alone now. The Jedi will try, but—
The image of her soft, slimy face, clutching that oversized stuffed Toop, waiting for someone who would never arrive—
She'll think I left her. Again. Just like on Zeltros...

His fingers curled weakly into Junior's jacket.

For once in his life, Xoff had nothing left to say, just the quiet rise and fall of breath and a trembling, silent sob, tears soaking into the larger man's shirt.

Noah Corek Jr.​