Private Two Chits to Give

[NPC- Carlie]

Carlie placed the heavy box on the ground besides him and swirled his stool towards the bar. His forearms ached in relief.

It was official, he was lost. The busy street swirled around him, but all he could focus on was the sizzling smells coming off the grill in front of him. He hadn't eaten in hours. This was why he never delivered off world.

"What can I get you?" The vendor offered, tossing him a glance over the orangish produce he sliced.

Carlie's stomach growled.

"Uh. Whatever that is." He turned his pocket out and coins went clattering across the ground.

 

[Lachadann]

NPC- Carlie

Life was too short for boredom. The blue ostensible protocol droid at the nearby table was currently sipping grilled-produce sweet-savory smoothie through a straw and had several empty paper plates in front of her.

"You do not want the number seven," Lachadann said in Cheunh-accented Basic, "you want the number five, trust me. Much better value for your wupiupi if you can enjoy hot food."

The vendor visibly bit his tongue, Lachadann having spent the morning paying his data bills by systematically annihilating his menu.

This was Attahox, a terrible, beautiful slog of a world. Not a bad place to learn to live a little.

 

[NPC- Carlie]

Carlie slapped his palm down on a rolling coin, pinning it to his leg. "Oh really? Thanks," he dismissed, barely glancing up at the voice. It was habit for him to avoid acknowling folks in public. The initial eye contact was uncomfortable, as was the following attempt at acting like he cared to hear what they had to say.

No, that wasn't right, he told himself. It wasn't that he didn't care. He wasn't rude or anything. He just had no clue what to say. Carlie felt out of place in everything, even his own skin. He wiped a sweaty palm up his leg and fumbled the coin back onto the counter top.

"Number five then," he told the man, shimming out of his seat to pick up a few coins off the dirt road around him. One was missing... He glanced up and caught the eye line of the helpful voice. Well, it wasn't quiet an eye line, there was metal and the visor of a suit shielding him from their view. It didn't make a difference. His brain knew there were eyes there all the same.

Ah, crap.

"You carry around a blender around for that?" The unfortunate words blubbered over.

 

[Lachadann]

You carry around a blender around for that?"

Lachadann held up a finger. Something whirly and grindy and probably sharp emerged and retracted.

"Self-defense kitchenette suite. For life support."

Slurp.

"Do not tell me you have never carried around a self-defense kitchenette suite."

 

[NPC- Carlie]

He sucked his cheeks in and stopped himself from uttering a a credulous 'no'.

"I've never even carried a knife."

And why would he? What was so dangerous someone would want to hurt him? Some people, he thought, just liked to be edgy.

A plate was slopped in front of him, the paper so thin the steam was already threatening to dissolve it. He passed over his coins and eagerly dug in, fighting to get his fork into his mouth as someone jostled him from behind.

"Ow," he complained, letting them pick up the coin he left on the ground. At least that was what he thought they were doing.

 

[Lachadann]

Lachadann slurped the remainder of her drink and set about stacking her paper plates.

"Shame. Life is better with knife. More agency, more options, more interesting. A knife is five tools in one. Also, good fidget."

She patted her metal thigh, which did indeed have a sheath for a folding knife, a very nice Rekalikad model. She took it out and showed him.

"See? Is Rekalikad. Best you can get. You should have knife if you spend time on Attahox."

NPC- Carlie

 

[NPC- Carlie]

The fork wavered by his mouth, then continued shoveling the gruel in. It was decent for what it was. Flavorful enough, with a bit of charcoal burnt in.

Don’t ask, don’t ask… “Five?” He asked, his attention flickering to the blade.

Did they really pull that out of their leg?