Private We Do Serve Their Kind Here

[Sarn Ardeskian]

WE DO SERVE THEIR KIND HERE​

WHERE: LEAN NUUTI BAR & GRILL | STARFORGE STATION | STARFORGE NEBULA | ADO SECTOR | MID RIM TERRITORY | RIMMA TRADE ROUTE​

WITH WHO: CINNA SUEDONA, CRIXTOPHEL MERIET, SUI DALADOR & TC-261 ​

​

While Sui Dalador was an undeniable asset, what with her seemingly unlimited connections that gave Sarn's own a run for their credits, Cinna Suedona was mostly just a tight ass, with a pike stuck so deep, even a supernova would have trouble illuminating it. As for TC-261 - or Tix as the merc had already come to call it - well, it was one of those so-called 'cooler protocols' without all the fretting and fussing, but it still rubbed the hired gun the wrong way. Even now, as it asked to be served just like the rest of the party, it made a point of letting everyone at the table know that there were precisely two point five billion establishments, galaxy-wide, that wouldn't serve their kind.​

​

"It's a true travesty, if you ask me," it would continue to lament, long after its sympathetic counterpart rolled away with their order. "Especially in this day and age."​

​

"Indeed," is all Sarn would care to offer, with a dismissive wave of his hand, as he returned his attention to the individual whose well-being was a legitimate priority, at least for as long as the credits kept flowing for services rendered.​

​

So far, in the thirty or so standard days he'd come to know Crixtophel Meriet, Sarn legitimately liked nearly every aspect about the socialite turned drifter, just as their mutual acquaintance, Vitra Miad, had promised he would. Could he be a bit demanding at times? Sure, but, so far, not in any way that seemed unreasonable. Were there times when he appeared entirely preoccupied with his own thoughts? Yes, but, again, Sarn didn't see a real downside to someone who needed to be left alone from time to time. If anything, he liked the fact that he didn't have to keep watch every waking hour. It afforded him the time to do his own thing, on a plush yacht that had just about every amenity readily available.​

​

"Repairs shouldn't take more than an hour," he noted aloud, after checking the shiny comm that sat neatly on his right wrist, one that he'd received upon becoming a member of The Eleriana's crew as the head of security. "Any thoughts on our next destination?" he would then ask of the man in charge, just as the serving droid returned with a full tray of mixed drinks, including a nepenthé for Tix.​

​

"There's the Royal Markets of Eiattu 6...," Sui would subtly slip in, with a not-so-subtle twinkle in her eye, as she helped distribute their order. "Would be a shame to miss out, seeing we're so close."​

​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

Theirs' was a slightly eclectic party now. With Toby gone, there was no real bridge between them all now that Toby was dead and gone. There was Crix himself of course at the top of the stack technically still royal, in that the new government of Isis had recognised him as a ruler of there in their history, even if he had only been regent a few prearranged term of years. His role in the party was to pay for everything and he was supposed to give the orders though he did not interfere much any more. The crew knew what it was doing by and large and he seldom felt the urge to do much more than follow. The world had become somewhat grey and hollow now and it was only drink or drugs that really brought some colour to it. Bellow him in the social strata was his Chef Sui Dalador (Who also cooked for everyone else) who it seemed was a lady of some renown having cooked for the great and good across the galaxy. He had recruited her the year before Toby died when they had properly begun a life of travel after his term as a regent of Isis. It had been fun then and he'd even hosted parties on his ship as they saw the galaxy. Why she stayed now that those days were done he did not know. Probably her obscene salary. His butler and valet Mr Suedona's continued presence in his life was easier to explain, he'd come with Crix when he'd first set out from home on his adventures. He'd been with the wider family even longer than that and often said the Suedona belonged with the Meriet. He was well paid too but it was the loyalty that kept him here. Then there were the more salt of the earth members of the crew Vitra Miad his pilot, Zer Lairdelt the gunner and Jiitiir Del-Bii the current engineer, he was the only one of the crew beyond the droids and Sarn not to have known Toby.

The droids were of course a group of their own and there was a much higher turnover amongst them, only Affer the co-pilot had really created any sentimental bonds. The rest were cycled in and out as Cris kept up to date with the latest models.

Sarn was still finding his place in the stack, perhaps he would be a new bridge between them all. Crix hadn't quite figured him out. He presented in all ways as a salt of the earth man. Rugged and ready and yet he had an aristocratic edge about him. Traits and behaviours Crix recognised as distinctly upper class. Things which only the wealthy learned and which once learned could never fully be shifted. It was in the way he held a knife or said certain words. Crix had not pried. Not yet anyway. Why should he care the man had done his job well in the month he'd been with them and he had come highly recommended not least by Vitra who had been with Cris for almost a decade. Toby had liked her and that meant Crix tended to treat her advice with a special degree of reverence.

Cris blamed Vitra for the way TC-261 was babbling on. It amused her to buy him drinks when they drank together. Even when there was nothing being served that could actually benefit him. TC didn't drink of course but he had come to like feeling included and now it offended him when the bar staff didn't humour him. Vitra hadn't joined their trip out sadly, she was engaged with the ship refit and repair. She didn't need to be but the Eleriana was her pride and joy. Even if it was Crix who owned her and Crix's mother who she was named for.

The drone of the protocol droid was like a buzzing in the background of his mind. Crix was only half alert. Being in a bar like this reminded him of the long passed old days when he was still a slaver. A key cog in his family's vicious business machine. He used to be quite well known for his ability to bring slaves into line and the stock he sold ... particularly his humans was of unmatched quality... if he said so himself. It was from bars like this that he had found his best stock. It was never hard to find a lone drifter down on their luck one not likely to be missed and too desperate to turn down offers of "help". It had helped that Cris had once been quite attractive a master of seduction.

That had gone at the same time as the parties. Now he felt greyed and depleted, even if Cinna still claimed he looked every bit as regal.

When Sarn spoke to Cris it was as if he had spoken into a vacuum. Cris did not react. He didn't even flinch there would be no sign at all that he thought anything had been said that ought to concern him. He had told Sarn to call him Sir in public. They were in public and Sarn had not done so. It took Cinna to give Sarn a rather firm Jab "He does not know you are talking to him Mr Ardeskian, you were told to call him Sir in public ... even this cesspit counts as public"

Though Sui was taking the main charge of the drinks it was Cinna who put Crix's before him. A colourful concoction in contrast to Crix's present demeanour. One of those drinks that was as much dessert as a beverage. Sweet indeed but also very high in alcohol content. a clearer liquid in a shot glass was placed beside it and without taking his emerald eyes off a lone man on a bar stool Cris tipped the clear into the colour.

Tonight would be a night that demanded a lot of intoxication.

Sarn Ardeskian

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

And there it was. Tight Ass putting his high held nose where it didn't belong. If Crixtophel had a problem with how he was being addressed, didn't he have it in himself to correct the situation? Did he really need some stuffy manservant, who was getting on in his years, to speak on his behalf? It nearly took Sui dragging the old man into his seat, which he thought looked 'too sticky,' yet here he was lecturing Sarn on how to behave in public?​

​

Sure. Fine. He could play along.​

​

For now.​

​

"Sir?" he asked of Crix who appeared to be drifting even as he mixed his sweet-smelling drink. "Any thoughts on our next port of call?" he continued to question once he had the man's full attention. "I've not seen the Royal Markets," he then lied, almost needlessly so, as his gaze drifted over to Sui, "but I have heard they are quite a thing to behold, although, probably not on an empty stomach."​

​

Truth be told, Sarn - or rather Gabreel - had been there over a decade and a half ago, back when he was nothing more than a hopeful aristocrat with few cares and fewer worries, but to admit such a thing would surely open a door he didn't really want to step through. Acknowledging he'd been somewhere so posh would more than likely garner a question or ten, and he wasn't exactly in the mood to play the game of half-truths and total lies. Sometimes it was better to feign ignorance, in particular, when he had nothing to gain by saying he'd been there or done that. He was more than happy to leave the spotlight on Sui.​

​

"It's true," she gushed, just before taking a long draw of her frothy, Shasa ale. "You do not want to go anywhere near the place without having eaten something substantial beforehand. It's the only way to make it out with your stomach intact and your account in the black."​

​

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[Crix Meriet]

How was Cris to know people were talking to him if they did not do so properly? He may have lost almost everything he considered worth having but he did still have plenty to justify just a little deference especially when Cinna was there to enforce it. Technically he was still a prince. A fact everyone except Cinna seemed to forget. All this boiled down to the fact that yes Cinna did have to ensure his charge was given the proper respect. It would not be becoming of Cris to correct anyone but Cinna could and it was expected that he would. Particularly in these early stages of a relationship. Sarn had to learn that there was a public and a private way of doing things.

It was three letters was it so hard?

Clearly not as Sarn did manage them and with that simple exhale of manipulated air Crix turned his gaze fleetingly from the Chiss at the bar. The sort of man he would have revelled in bending to his will just a decade before. Not now though, the sight of the man and the thoughts he aroused in Crix made the broken man feel sick. He fixed his eyes on Sarn since it was him who was talking to him and he served as a distraction and took a swig of his drink. It burned for all its sweetness the clear liquid serving as a sharp knife in the sugar. Still it would do its job. Make everything numb again. Make this place and these people tolerable. It might even shift the dark cloud that had set in over him. He hoped it would because he knew what it was like not to feel this low. He knew he should like these people ... did like these people they were his family and yet ...

and yet ...

"Oh, you were talking to me Sarn... " he sighed "I had not realised" petty perhaps but he had to learn. He considered the question though he did not know why. What did he care about where they went or what they did it all was all shades of grey to him. If he could he would simply lie down and never get up. what he wouldn't give to simply float in a nothingness blanketed by his memories. There were no suns now, no stars, no light all that he had loved and lived for was gone and he just had hollow rememberings. It would make the crew happy though, that he could tell.

He had to live Crix knew that. Living and dying against his will was the only way he could look Toby in the eye when he died ... if they found themselves together at least. It was well known to him that Toby would not want an early grave for him. Nor would he want this half-life that Cris was currently living but Crix could only do so much. He was running on fumes ...

"The markets" he said "Why not? Why shouldn't we all behold them?" He had tried to convey some sort of excitement but none really came out. When Sui made mention of keeping accounts in the black he turned and looked at her. Sizing her up and trying to decide for himself whether she knew. Crix was not poor by any means but his income was not what it had once been. When he gave up the slave trade he lost his own source of revenue but he was also cut off by his family. For a long time he had lived off the windfalls he'd made from the government of Isis but soon that stream would also close. They had almost delivered all they had promised and whilst they made some money trading commodities from port to port he could no longer live as he had done.

How would Sui know? Cris still threw around credits like he could breathe wealth into existence. She didn't have a knowing look ... she probably didn't know. He gulped again at his drink and sighed in a way that he hoped might pass as a chuckle "I trust you can cover us on the full stomach front" Not that Crix ever had much of an appetite now. He turned back from her and lay his head in his hands. By the stars he was tired. Perhaps detecting the Vibe Sui stood again and beckoned to Cinna "Come on, Lets play holo-darts it will get you out of that oh-so-sticky seat and I still have to redeem my self from last time" Astaroid Billards was more her game, though truth be told Cinna was a bit of a shark at most parlour games. The butler looked to Crix who lazily waved him away and Tix followed spouting facts about holo-darts. That left Crix alone with his newest employee.

Realising that he could not sit in silence forever he scrubbed at his eyes and sat up. He could not wait to get back to his bed and shut the world away. Who knew when that would be though a mechanics hour often seemed to be more like three. He downed his drink, thudding the glass down "We need something stronger Ardeskian and then we shall get to know each other" he declared "If you are going to be covering my hide I ought to know some of your secrets"

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

Sarn had his personal reasons for wanting to know their next move; however, because of his current position, he could easily play off any inquiry as purely professional.​

​

As Crix's bodyguard and the ship's head of security, it was best if he kept at least one step ahead of things, right? How better to assess the threat level, and properly prepare for it in advance, then to know where they would be touching down long before they disembarked from the relatively safe confines of their luxury vessel? Eiattu, for example, should be a piece of puff cake, just as the nearby Alakatha, with its soothing, white sand beaches, would be. But systems such as Qat Chrystac or Tshinndral would require a touch more planning and, perhaps, even a strong recommendation to reconsider such volatile destinations.​

​

"Eiattu it is," he would confirm, more so to himself, as he shot off a quick comm to Vitra, just to keep the pilot in the know.​

​

Electing to remain at the table while the others went off to play, Sarn took full advantage of the extra room by stretching out his legs and resting one of his arms along the back of the wobbly chair to his right. Thankful that the chatty droid decided to go with them, it took only a heartbeat more to realize that this additional departure placed him squarely in the spotlight, which Crix suddenly seemed all too eager to take full advantage of.​

​

"Only if it's a fair exchange," he found himself teasing, in regard to the sharing of secrets, as he motioned for the serving droid.​

​

Placing an order for a bottle of Corellian whiskey, the former Kuati aristocrat made the semi-revealing misstep of also ordering a platter of meats and cheeses that paired perfectly with the aged alcohol. Realizing what he had done the very second the words escaped his lips, he was quick to cover by simply stating that Sui had made mention of such a favorable combination.

"She's quite the expert, is she not?" he would add, with an easy smile and an appreciative glance in her general direction, as he repositioned himself, making the purposeful move to shift his form closer to Crix than protectively - and needlessly - away.​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

Sarn had thus far shown himself a capable bodyguard. Not that there had been much to protect Crix from thus far. He did not much get into adventures anymore and the most dangerous being he came into contact with regularly was himself when in drink. If only bodyguards could halt hangovers.

This was not a familiar star system to Crix and he had not troubled himself to consider a map or think much about where they went. He had nothing and no one any more. A drifter so why should he do anything other than drift? what was the use of seeking out places only to be disappointed when every place billed as technicolour turned into monochrome? He could be disappointed in front of his own mirror. No better to let the crew decide the journey for he had long passed caring and at least if they felt empowered they were less likely to leave him. He would not survive without them and despite his firm belief that "sometimes dead is better" he still couldn't bring himself to rush to its embrace. It was perhaps lucky for him that Vitra was not there for she might have suggested they sun themselves on the white sand beaches of Alakatha. She would have good intentions, of course, such places had once been a favourite of Crix's ... when Toby was alive.

He still had his vivid memories of crackling fires and star-filled skies. Music played on handmade instruments and dancing. So much dancing. Crix had once been a good dancer raised in such arts by a mother who wanted her second son to have more than just a good sword arm. Toby had not been a good dancer. Nerves made his feet move a beat behind and resulted in many a trodden toe ... on the sand though it mattered little they just sank down. warm and unscathed. He would never know such joy again seeing such places now would send his memories into ashes like so much dry wood.

Eiattu it was ... it would be monochrome, yes but it would not remind him of Toby.

With the others soon absent they both unfurled a little. Sarn more than Crix. He was rough and brash, lacking in deference and humility. Crix was not sure how he liked it. Nor what to blame for it. Sarn occupied space without shame as if he felt some entitlement to it. It reminded him of people he knew from his old lives when he had moved primarily amongst the wealthy and aristocratic. There was a hint of that in Sarn and Crix had thought him perhaps the illegitimate son of an aristocrat when he first met him. Proof that there was at least some genetic difference in the better classes. It was perhaps a vague grasp of his old life to hire someone he thought to be a noble mongrel. One of those daring things the rich did ... like taking public transport for an adventure.

"I was a prince you know ... " Crix retorted "All my exchanges are fair" He forced a smile "Besides I have ceased to be worthy of secrets but I will consider answering what questions you may ask ... " He might even tell the truth when he answered but that would depend.

Corrillian whiskey meant Sarn was taking this seriously. It was ordered and it came. He thought nothing of the platter of meat. This was a place allegedly famous for such things and besides rough and tumble mercenaries could like meat and whiskey. Apparently, this conclusion was Sui's doing though "She is ... I do not know why she stays with me, I was shocked enough when she accepted my offer whilst I still held parties with powerful guests ... Now I just linger" He sighed "No doubt it is the money"

It was always the money.

Sarn was closer to him now filling Crix's head with the smell of Carababba Tabac an old habit of Crix's he had given up for Toby ... He was endeavouring not to take it back up. Sarn would make that harder. "How are you finding things here ?" he asked an innocuous first question.

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

Sarn did know. Actually, truth be told, he knew more about the man sitting next to him than he'd ever known about any of his former employers.​

​

Crix had had a colorful, public past, one that spanned more than a few systems, until, one day, the galaxy or, more specifically, the man himself, had abruptly decided it was time to retire his titles and all of the pomp and circumstance that came with them. Like a switch being flipped, the fun and games were over, and if Sarn had to venture a guess, based on his own experiences, there was someone, not something, at the root of such a dramatic shift.​

​

As for Sui, she didn't seem the greedy sort. Gluttonous? Sure. How could she not be, when she cooked as expertly as she did? But greedy? No. She, like him - like all of them he imagined - had her reasons for being here beyond the credits. Perhaps, like Vitra, she was hopeful that things would turn back around, that there would come a time when those parties would return with a vengeance. And if not, well, the ride was still a nice one to take, even if their captain was far more morose than mirthful.​

​

"Very well, sir," Sarn stated with ease, making sure to address Crix as he desired. "The crew, for their part, have been mostly welcoming," he then added as he purposefully eyed Cinna, who was currently looking more than a little smug as he bested Sui, yet again. "As for the accommodations, and added perks," he continued as he lifted the well-crafted bottle of whiskey that had arrived as they conversed, "only a Kowakian monkey would dare to complain."​

​

"And you, sir? How are you?" he asked as he poured them both a glass, wondering if the man would actually open up or if he'd continue to speak in vague generalities, as he'd done since day one. "Perhaps it's not my place to say, but you seem...preoccupied."​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

It upset but did not surprise Crix that it was not well known why he suddenly disappeared from public life.

The media that had written of his exploits had never much noticed or cared about Toby. He was in every photograph and referred to in almost every interview, yet somehow his connection to Crix went unmentioned. Most publications did not even set out his name. Perhaps Toby preferred it that way, he had never been one for the spotlight, quite content to be in Crix's shadow. Seen but never heard. By the stars, Toby had gone so long unheard. It was cruel that he was silenced permanently so short a time after he had regained his voice. If they could not even acknowledge Toby's name why would any of them see that his death was the cause of the separation? Why would they think his death was any more impactful on Crix than the others that occurred in his presence?

It had been his birthday yes but ... Crix had been intimate with death, his temporary state of kingship was started when the princess he replaced saw her wedding descend into a blood bath. Perhaps Cris should simply stop attending weddings.

The crew knew ... or at least those who had been with him since before Toby died knew ... the impact Toby had had on Crix. If they were waiting for the parties to return he hoped that they realised that they never would. To throw a party one needed to have a sense of joy and vibrancy and all of that was gone from Crix's life now. Leaked out like a puncture in a bathtub. All Cris felt now was guilt, shame, anger and above all crushing sadness. How could he party? what could he celebrate? how could there be joy without light?

They were good people and he was glad that they found joy with each other but he could not share in it. He was glad that they had taken to Sarn too, though he had a leg up being friends with Vitra who was quite popular on board. Much as Cinna tried to claim he had seniority most people looked to Vitra before him. "They are good people" he nodded "I'm sure Vitra's endorsement helped too though, made it so you did not enter as a total outsider" He followed his eyes to the dart boards, a hollow sort of smile dusting his lip as he saw Cinna triumph again. He almost felt something, amusement perhaps, comfort. Cinna winning and Sui raving was a constant feature of life. Like a comet, however, the near feeling came and went without landing and the smile fell away if it was ever there at all.

Sarn spoke of perks and Crix nodded. The perks might have to start being pared back. He was no longer making the money he once did. Now was not the day to discuss such things though. Perhaps once the initial phase was over Sarn's tastes would lessen or he would start seeing more to himself. Another hint that he might be amused came at the mention of the monkey lizards "They have always unnerved me slightly ... much too smart to be pets, I saw one once that was a better shot than me" he tilted his head before reaching to pour but finding that Sarn had not relinquished the bottle "I'm glad you find no cause to complain though."

Though that was not what Sarn had said ... he might have complaints he just wouldn't dare voice them. Sometimes one in Crix's place needed to confirm something back as if it had been what they would want to hear.

Whiskey was set before him and he eyed it longingly. especially as his preoccupation was honed in on. He swirled his glass as he debated what to say. After a drink which was less all-consuming than he would have liked he spoke. "I am occupied by what always occupies me ... Toby" He answered "But being here reminds me of the old days ... my old way of life" He looked again to the man at the bar. he'd fetch a high value with that bearing.

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

Ah, yes, Sarn should've known better.​

​

When in doubt, the answer was Toby - it was always Toby, wasn't it? - however, there was also the well-built Chiss to consider, the one who Crix couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of if he tried. Now it was up to the bodyguard to decide which path to take.​

​

Did he open old wounds by focusing their conversation on the man's dead lover - whom he knew so little about - or did he play it safe, relatively speaking, by broaching the subject of the man's former occupation as a slave trader? That is where his mind was at, wasn't it? Why else was he sizing the lone patron up? Surely not to take him back to his bed for a quick fling.​

​

"He'd fetch a nice sum," he casually stated, as he took a quick bio read with his right eye, noting the specimen's favorable mass index and healthy heart rate.​

​

There. It was decided. Slave trade it was. And why the hell not?​

​

As taboo as the topic could be, within certain circles, Sarn saw no harm in tickling his employer's fancy. The Chiss would be a fine catch, especially if he had the spirit of a warrior, which many of the younger ones did. A strong mix of brawn and brains was always preferred when it came to those who served, but a thirst for something more would be an added bonus. Those types usually didn't give in so easily. They fought the good fight, and continued to do so, even when the odds were against them.​

​

This much Sarn could say with absolute confidence, based on his own disposition and personal experience.​

​

"He'd be a tough one to break," he would add, before taking a long draw on his expertly crafted drink, which proceeded to burn his throat in the best way possible. "Could be fun," he would then conclude, as he set his glass down and returned his gaze to his boss.​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

Everyone ought to know better and yet all too often they did not.

Sarn perhaps ought to know better than to think Crix was thinking approvingly of the old days too. Crix was revolted by his previous "profession" It had brought him good things he could not deny it. Shown him good things but now all his memories of it were tainted by guilt and shame. Toby had hated the slave trade and when he finally got his voice back he could tell him why. Show him the full extent of the hurt caused to him and whilst Crix had cared little for the hurt done to others he cared a lot for the hurt done to Toby. He had not needed to buy and sell flesh and Toby pleaded with him to stop and he had. Then Toby died and Crix was left behind knowing he had made Toby suffer for years.

In his wild days, there was as good a chance that Cris would have taken the man as a lover than as a slave. It would depend upon how he came to feel in the moment. Crix had built a particularly strong attachment to the Slicer Cryax Bane ... and his half brother though he was not a full-blooded Chiss... and a lingering attraction to the Chiss race. He was remembering all of that with a lingering unease. An almost sickness in his stomach that gripped him and shook him. Yet all the same when Sarn spoke he nodded. Yes, he could fetch a tidy sum if sold. Would Cris sell him though or would he try in vain to light up his own life again? Bring a little colour in even if it was only red and blue.

Sarn spoke further. Breaking the man at the bar would ... fun ... he said and in his gut, before brain and heart got in the way Crix thought 'Yes' yes it would and he could see himself doing it in his mind's eye. Making the man bend or break until his will was nothing but what Cris desired. Until he came to find tranquillity in the surrender of his life and liberty. Then the rest came back in and he felt the sickness welling up in him again. A hell of his own devising. He was but a man and he was tempted ... so sorely tempted even knowing that it would hurt like hell. That said did he not already live in hell, albeit a hell of doing nothing and watching his lifestyle carry away what wealth and resources he had?

"It would not be fun for me" he declared, almost as if he was himself convinced by his words "I do not do that anymore, If you came here hoping to be employed by a slaver because you know my history and my family trade you will be disappointed ..." How could he trade in slaves now? How could he return to a business that Toby found so detestable even if he were dead? It did not matter that he was dead CriX knew what T would say ... heck he knew what Vitra would say. She'd chew his ear off ... or worse.

and yet ...

With another gulp of sharp liquid in him igniting a fire in his throat, Crix spoke again "Do you know the slave trade Ardeskian?" He asked before grunting at himself, in disgust or simply frustration "I need a cigarra" he sighed fishing in his pocket "Do you reckon we can smoke or will they do us for passive manslaughter or something?"

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

Let's start at the end and work our way back, Sarn thought as he pulled his sleek, cigarra case from an interior pocket of his leather trench, popped the top open, and offered Crix a stick.​

​

"I don't think the locals will mind," he then stated, with a subtle nod towards a nearby table, where two intoxicated patrons were sharing a spice pipe.​

​

Taking a stick for himself, he then snapped the case shut. Flipping it over within his nimble fingers, he proceeded to light the tip with the small torch imbedded in the bottom of the gift he'd received ages ago from a year-long fling that ended all too soon. A moment more, and the light was being offered to his boss.​

​

"If I wanted to dabble in slavery - which I have yet to, by the way - I would've aimed for the pros, like the Hutts or the Trandoshans," he mused before taking a drag on his cigarra. "It was just an observation," he added, after blowing a bit of smoke.​

​

"It'd still be fun to break him," he playfully added, after a moment of silence, with a sloppy, lustful smirk that spoke volumes, as his eyes roamed over the male's form.​

​

"Anyway. While we're on the subject of fun, what do you like to do in that regard?" he then asked as his eyes drifted from the Chiss back to Crix. "Or are your wild and carefree days over too? Is it all work and no play for the experienced captain, with the capable ship and well-rounded crew? That empty cargo hold of yours is practically begging to be filled with something, if not a clutch of pretty playthings."​

​

Returning his gaze to the Chiss once more, thoughts of what he'd like to do with him filled his mind's eye. Not typically a domineering type, regardless of the impression he often gave with his words, the appeal to command another was there just the same, lingering in the shadows.​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

His fingers closed around his own case as Sarn offered out his own. Crix hesitated just a moment before withdrawing his hand and taking a tubular stick of vice and relief from the metallic case. Why smoke one of his own when he could have someone else's for free? It was not like Crix didn't pay for everything else around the ship. To say nothing of how difficult it was to get his preferred brand on the 'road'. He was not sure what quality of Tabac or indeed Tobacco Sarn smoked, his expectation was the cheaper sort more chemical than plant.

His eyes wandered to the intoxicated pair and he hummed with perhaps the slightest look of disapproval ... or jealousy. He had not legitimately expected that his smoking would cause an issue. He was making dull conversation but the presence of their pipe did put an end to any doubts.

It was clear that Sarn was still to grasp precedence and deference as he lit his own ciggara first and only then held the light out to Cris. Cris lent into the flame with an irritated exhale from his nose and the cigarra was lit. Its smoke was lighter and more pleasant than he had expected. Good quality, which was a surprise and his expression might well have turned quizzical had Sarn not immediately spoken. The delay in offering his light had been irritating but the mercenary's words were aggravating.

"I was a professional" He grumbled before a deeper inhale, of the type that burned the lungs and distracted one from other things. It was followed by an even deeper exhale as he tried not to snap. It was an odd quandary, he no longer wished to be a slaver. The idea sickened him in fact and yet he did not wish to allow it to be said that he had not been a slaver of some ability. "The Huts don't catch or train their own slaves and the Trandoshans prefer hunting slaves to training them ... " He remarked through pressed lips, as for the retort that it was only an observation Crix rolled his eyes behind the blown smoke. An observation yes but one it seemed which was based on no experience. The old Cris would have risen to the bait and taken that man as a slave just to prove a point.

Every being had their weak spot and Cris would find it ... if he so chose ... which he did not. Baited though he was.

He even shifted himself in his seat and away from the Chiss. He was tempted and it was very clear that Sarn was too. He claimed to have no desire to dabble in slavery but he was also clearly unopposed to the idea and his lusty gaze betrayed a desire to dabble in something. Cris had to make himself hold his tongue until the topic of conversation pivoted back to him and away from the man at the bar.

Cris looked down and exhaled smokey breath as the question was asked. It stumped him now, he used to have lots of fun. Drinking, smoking, and debauching himself in entertainment districts across the galaxy. Now though, he couldn't recall the last time he'd had fun. All was hollow and ashen now. He flicked the end of the ciggara sending ash flying broadly in the direction of the floor "My carefree wild days are over" he answered "Though I doubt the crew would say I did much work either so I don't know where that leaves me" He sighed and looked up "I used to enjoy Sabbacc and other table games" he offered in feeble suggestion. He didn't enjoy much anymore, not when he was sober enough to remember anyway.

His head tilted at the talk of his empty cargo hold. Sarn was still not over the idea of breaking the Chiss it seemed. Nor was he letting talk of slavery die. Why wouldn't he let it go? Must he continue to dangle such things before Crix? It was disrespectful having been told his employer's stance. Sarn seemed to know it too and find it amusing to continue to poke at the issue.

"Perhaps we will find some trade goods at the markets" He replied "We can fill it up with those"

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

The surly d'oemir had been poked, just a little, and its plush pelt was ruffled, this much Sarn was certain of, but he had no intention of pushing things any further. This man was his employer after all, not some mark he could casually toy with without getting burned. Angering him would only put them at odds, and that was the last thing Sarn wanted, especially this early on in their partnership.​

​

"I'm sure you were. Forgive me if I implied anything less," he willingly corrected himself before reaching for his glass.​

​

Merely nodding as he took note of Crix's preferred form of entertainment, he returned his voice to the conversation once it turned back to trade.​

​

"I have quite a few reliable contacts along the Ison Corridor we could tap, that is, if we can get our hands on the goods they're in need of," he shared as he carefully set his lit cigarra on the edge of the table and reached inside his coat to retrieve a mini datapad he kept handy for moments such as this. "My guy on Gerrenthum is always looking for exotic fruits and vegetables." he continued to divulge as his eyes played over the now live, dimly lit screen. "Same goes for my girl on Mataou."​

​

"You know, with Sui's culinary expertise, my connections, and your backing, we could set ourselves up nicely," Sarn then stated, with a nod, as he set the tablet down and retrieved his smoke. "I mean, sure, it wouldn't turn as quick a profit as your last venture, but it could help to keep the credits flowing."​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

Crix did not enjoy being poked and needled. He never had but he especially did not now. It reminded him of his past, the father who despised him and the brother who mocked him. He was the type to hold petty grudges and all his most violent deeds had begun with such slights. People never did learn, one slight led to another until an avalanche came and he began to look for opportunities to cause pain. Sarn was not there yet but he would be upon thin ice whether he knew it or not. The last being to slight him had lost a crown, a baby and her liberty. Crix wondered to himself what he could take from Sarn. The man was a mercenary and yet ... there was something more about him. Something almost kindred.

He put it aside as he stared into Sarn. The man seemed to realise he had pushed past the limit of Crix's patience. An apology was a start but not enough. Crix's own drink sat briefly untouched as he took another inhale of the burning stick. It was helping to loosen him up ... though for now that only counteracted Sarn's efforts to wind him up. "I will take your request under consideration" he replied "Afterall you did a little more than imply"

There was a time when Cris would have had some sense knocked into Sarn before the man begged upon his knees right there in the bar. He'd done it before, the refresher floors in these seedy spaces could be so slippy but he no longer had the manpower or the inclination. Plus it would be a shame to make Sarn's pretty face all puffy.

He was made slightly glad that he had not had Sarn beaten black and blue ... such a dark though, he drank to suppress it ... when the man revealed he had some contacts who would pay well for exotic fruit of all things. Fruit they would certainly be able to find in great quantity at the Royal Markets on Eiattu 6. That might help him with his cash flow concerns too. He only hoped the ship didn't come in too expensive. Apparently, they had been putting off some key areas of work and now the time had come to pay the piper.

That would be no problem of course and how could he say otherwise. he was meant to be made of money.

"It will spare me of the need to figure out our next stops too ... " Crix mumbled mostly to himself after all that was meant to be his privilege as captain and it might have been if life did not feel so very hollow. A whole galaxy of grey lay out before him "It seems as good an idea as any Ardeskian and I see no harm in trying it out ... do they say how much they would want ?" He would need to front the capital after all.

Distance in time from Sarn's little slip and a few more sips of whisky burning a path down his smoke-filled throat had calmed him a little, his eyes looked more like their sad resting state now than the sharp look they had taken on. Their next venture settled at least as far as Crix was concerned he returned to the previous topic "What do you do for fun?" Perhaps something this Mercenary did could spark something in Cris again.

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

"Mataou will usually take whatever I have to give," Sarn openly admitted as he reached for his datapad. "As for Gerrenthum, he's a bit more, shall we say, discerning," he then shared as he brought up their specific profile, recalling just how hard it had been to please the picky, two-headed Troig. "They appear to be looking for Endorian blumfruit, along with Zalsosian cor'tans, and, uh, Antarian peas," he divulged as he read one of their latest comms, which had been posted only a day before. "The first two I'm familiar with, and the Royal Market will probably carry both, but that last one could be a bit tricky. Says here, they, uh, were once grown by the Jedi on Coruscant."​

​

"Anyway."​

​

Taking a drag on his smoke, he pushed the pad away. Once that hand was free, it snatched at his now near empty glass. Thinking it best to not outdrink his boss, he refrained from taking a refill.​

​

"Fun? Me? More like trouble," he mused as he set the glass down, after finishing off the last of it. "Have you ever been to Lumchugger's Hub on Bescane? They have it all. Pod racing, shock ball, gladiatorial droid boxing. They even have a holozoetroscope, which makes their holotheater one of the best I've ever experienced."​

​

"Anywho."​

​

"When I'm not gambling my life away, I like a good holonovel or brushing up on any one of the dozen or so languages I speak," he admitted, not caring in the least how mundane either of those hobbies may have sounded. "However, burning calories in the bedroom is always a nice alternative," he tacked on for good measure, just to keep things lively, as his gaze returned to the Chiss, "especially when you can find the right partner with enough stamina to keep up."​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

Crix wondered to himself whether Sarn was referring to his clients only by their planet of residence to protect himself from having them stolen from under him or simply because he did not think Crix would care to try to remember names. They were still in the early stages of their professional dealings and so either had an equal chance of being true. Crix supposed it mattered little, the idea was a good one and Crix was happy to go along with it but he lacked the inclination to actually put in the hard work organising everything himself. Not when he could just leave it to others to deal with. That was not to say he would not input at all. He could supervise and of course, it was his money they were going to be spending on this venture of theirs. "It sounds like we ought to go to Gerrenthum first then," he said from behind his cigara ... see he was engaged. The two clients seemed to have exotic taste particularly when it came to the peas. "Hopefully Sui or someone at the market will know of sources for the peas ... " he shrugged. He would rather avoid Coruscant if at all possible.

It was too busy and though he was sure he wasn't on any new republic hitlist it was better to be safe than sorry.

With a lazy gesture, Sarn pushed away his datapad and it was clear that they would talk no more of business. Crix took another drag and watched as Sarn's eyes moved between the depleted contents of his glass and the bottle of Corrilian whiskey. It made him smile to see, perhaps Sarn did have a little grasp of deference. Crix took another swig from his own glass and sat back in his seat. He didn't quite finish it though. not immediately. He let the last of it linger, swilling in the glass as he lazily swilled it.

Sarn's musings actually got a short-lived breathy laugh from Crix "Trouble can be fun ... " It certainly used to be. He finished his glass off then and slid it ... in as much as glass would slide on these tables ... Bescane now that was an experience "Once or twice, My family had business there, and Probably still does factory work can be such a dangerous profession" He said "Manual labourers were not my specialism but my lifestyle depended upon remaining in my brother's good graces which were far from easy so sometimes I had to talk to factory bosses" Somehow they had got back to slavery but he tried to move away from that again. He could see Sarn in Lumchuggers, it was his sort of place mostly rough and ready but with glimpses of a higher ideal of life. A projection of it at least.

Sarn's other interests were expected, most people claimed to enjoy reading and Crix seemed to be drawn to people who liked gambling "Perhaps we can find ourselves in a high-stakes casino at some point ... I pay you enough" He said half joking when it came to the crew salaries. He began to grow irritated again though as Sarn boasted of his 12 languages. It smacked of showing off. Crix could speak a few languages too, Sarn was not better than him. Perhaps this insecurity was needled further by Sarn's return to focus on the chiss man. Was Crix getting territorial? He didn't know.

"If you want to bed him go and talk to him" Crix grumbled. There was certainly jealousy in him that Sarn still could without feeling crushing libido-killing guilt and shame. In his mind, he had already been abandoned. Sarn was halfway to a bed in a seedy station motel. Of course, they would all leave him sat alone to wallow in his own emotions. Drown in self-pity. If Sarn had not topped him up Crix would pointedly do it himself. In either case, he soon drained the glass.

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

Sarn wasn't exactly sure what he said to annoy his boss, but it was obvious the man was displeased, which, as previously decided, was not the bodyguard's intention, at all. Maybe it would be better if he spoke less and drank more, maybe even a lot more?​

​

Reaching for the bottle, he poured them both a fresh glass, starting with Crix's since that seemed to be the way the man preferred things. His needs were to always come first, which was precisely why Sarn decided in the moment to refrain from flirting up a storm with the good-looking Chiss. It was more important for him to mend bridges, than to burn them, especially when it came to the man who was currently keeping him out of trouble.​

​

"Truth be told, he's not exactly my type," he fibbed, just a little, as he shifted in his seat and gave his boss his full attention. "Believe it or not, I do actually care more about what's between someone's ears than their thighs, no matter how muscular those thighs may be," he half mused in an attempt to keep things light, before taking a final drag on his cigarra that ended its life. "I could be wrong, but he doesn't exactly give the impression of being well read," he observed as the man scratched at his undeniably shapely ass, like some common nerf herder, "or well mannered."​

​

Sure, the sex probably would've been hot, but what then? Not that Sarn needed anything more meaningful right now, but it was nice to have the option, if the potential was there.​

​

"Looks like the tide is turning in Sui's favor," he then remarked, with a grin, as his attention was suddenly drawn to the woman who was now laughing up a storm, apparently proud of her last play that now placed her rather prettily upon the board. "I'm gonna venture to guess Cinna didn't see that coming," he added as he eyed the now annoyed looking valet.​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

Perhaps it was not all Sarn's fault that Crix was so riled up. Certainly the Mercenary bore his share of blame, treating Crix like his eqaul was not a good way to go and would have irked Crix even before this miasma of darkness decended on his life, but Sarn had started behind. Crix hated being out in public now. Particularly in bars and other places where people were enjoying life. There was no enjoyment in his life now only pain and shame and being stuck before direct proof that not everyone lived the same way was painful. That pain made him short tempered.

The Whiskey would help and so too did Sarn pouring his refill first, some evidence that the man might be taught to show proper deference. It was like a cold compress on a blaster wound but it was a start atleast. Almopst as soon as his glass was full again Crix reached across to fetch it and took a big gulp of the firery liquid. It was unpleasant going down and his face screwed alittle for the briefest of moments but then it felt better and a warmth settled in his chest.

Sarn's lie met with a hum from Crix. A disbeliving hum, it was clear that Sarn wanted soemthing from the man but Crix would not prob the wound just for the sake of it. Even now he was not so distructive as to reignite a fight when the would be opponent was backing down. Apparently Sarn wanted someone with something more than physical substance, if that were true he would be the first mercenary Crix had met that would pass up on an attractive being even if it were only for a short term fling. Crix supposed Sarn might be the commitment kind of man though. So he nodded certainly the Chiss' manners did leave something to be desired but then they were hardly at a thé dansant in the gilded halls of Naboo. Manners were in something of a drought in the bar.

Crix was appeased though, he was not to be left to wallow in his own stew of self pity. He even ventured to ask a dangerous question as he pressed the stub of the Ciggara into what was passing as their ashtray "What is your type then Ardeskian ... beyond well read and well mannered?"

Attention was turned back to the ongoing dart war between his chef and Valet. The reversal of fortunes seemed to please his body gaurd but Sarn wouyld not need to put up with Cinna sulking all night "I venture to agree he did not ... I hope for my sake he pulls it back or Suedona will be surly all night" The Valet hated to lose and it would be Crix's body that paid the price of his frustrated distraction if he did. Dressing was not something to be done by distracted hands. Crix could almost feel the tugged arm and strained shoulder. Still there was nothing he could do about the situation so he turned away from it. It would be what it would be.

The glass he had was soon emptied and he nudged it back to Sarn. If he could not be happy he could atleast be drunk.

 

[Sarn Ardeskian]

​

Sarn was tempted to make a remark about Cinna becoming surly - when it seemed as if that were the sourpussed man's usual disposition, you know, when he wasn't being uppity - but, again, the bodyguard had moved beyond poking the d'oemir. There was no point in making it even more well known that he and the valet didn't see eye to eye, especially since Crix appeared to favor the boring man, for whatever reason.​

​

And speaking of reasons to appreciate someone...​

​

"Don't get me wrong," he began before lighting up another stick, having snuffed out the other, "I certainly appreciate an athletic form, but we both know that doesn't last forever, even with all of the available enhancements."​

​

Taking a long drag, Sarn took the moment of silence to consider the question on a less superficial level.​

​

His history was rather speckled. Gender and race mattered little to the open-minded man, and while class and sophistication were welcome, neither guaranteed a good match. Truth be told, them being educated or refined didn't always seal the deal, so to speak. So, what exactly was Sarn's type then?​

​

"I must confess," he then continued after filling Crix's glass, yet again, "I don't think I have a type, per say. And, no, that's not my way of avoiding the subject, for fear of disclosing some intimate detail about myself, that may or may not make you scoff at me," he then elaborated, almost needlessly so. "I just...I think I prefer to keep my options open," he disclosed as his gaze casually roamed the room, only to land on Crix in the end.​

​

"How about you, sir? Do you have an ideal mate?" he then asked, still curious about the love that had been lost, the one everyone knew so much about, but rarely spoke of.​

​

 

[Crix Meriet]

Of all the things Crix valued it was stability he looked for in other people. He could take comfort in the ways they could be predicted and ground himself. Cinna was stable and predictable. He did not have to worry that his butler would do something which would unsettle him or disrupt his life. Sarn was beginning to look like he might be a destabilising influence. That was what had done for the last one too. Perhaps it was simply a byproduct of being a mercenary. Sarn at least had the benefit of being interesting. Perhaps that was the wrong word Crix and he didn't know each other well enough for that yet but he was intrigued.

Sarn was lighting up again and Crix felt an itch to take out another stick himself. There was something pleasant in the feel of smoke in his lungs. It was a reminder that he still functioned if nothing else but it also came with a helping of guilt. Toby did not like him smoking and though he was no longer here to be upset it still felt wrong to Cris to have more than one. It was his small allowance. All the same, Crix sat a little back away from the source of the temptation. Though he could feel his own Ciggaras in his pocket.

Talk of athletic forms could distract him slightly. It was true that most would lose their athletic form in time. skin sacked muscle wasted but it would not with Toby. Cris had seen to that, he would retain his beauty forever. Frozen still in time. An eternity as if he were just asleep. That was where a lot of Crix's windfall had gone but it was important to him. He could not imagine living a life where he could no longer see Toby's face. Crix hummed and nodded "I suppose it does not" he agreed.

Crix had his own spotted history. There had always been Toby, he was a constant but there had been others too. The man he had been in his youth had been hard to satisfy. Selfish and dark. So he'd maintained a number of side relationships. Cryax had been his longest-term lover. Almost like a second meaningful relationship. He'd spent the night with Cryax's brother once too. Beyond them was a now nameless stream of men and women. Stupid shallow people. he despised the thought of them, he had tried to despise the thought of Cryax too but he could not go that far.

Sarn did not have a type he claimed and Crix was not sure whether he found that contention to be believable. He insisted it was not some way to hide things from him Cris leant his head on his hand in consideration as Sarn looked around. It was not totally unbelievable that Sarn really was that free with his affections. MErcenaries were not often attachment types, by necessity or design he was not sure. Ultimately Crix came to no conclusion but opted not to probe the matter further. If Sarn did not wish to say he could not be made to and if he was telling the truth then nothing would change either.

Besides Sarn's question served to rub him up the wrong way in any event. whilst its intent might have been to find out more about Toby it had been phrased in such a way as to imply that Toby might not be his perfect partner. All at once Crix's eyes became more crystalline. Sharp and angry as took his glass in a knuckle-whitening grip "My Soulmate is dead" He replied, "You must know this".