Wham Bam

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

Jack didn't notice her discomfort.

He was already approaching the altar and the music box on top of it. Looked old and it was mechanical, mechanical music boxes weren't exactly a dime in a dozen. Not even out in the Outer Rim where ya had to cobble together pieces of Core tech to make something functional. It wasn't certain how Jack knew, but he did. Whirring around with the revolver already whipping out to aim towards the Clawdite clutching around Tryp and making a shot difficult.

Not impossible.

Difficult.

It was all a matter of picking out the good moment, deciding it was and then squeezing without any doubt on their mind. "Ya made a'mistake, 'jaw." From the way his mouth clenched every time the clawdite gulped and that was a lot... dry mouth. They preferred to be around water. That told Jack just how desperate the fella had been to shake him. The fact that he was trying to take a hostage? That was only the underlining of the point already made here.

"Oh?" The Clawdite - looked like a woman now, pretty one, but Jack had seen the bastard in a whole lineup of folks, among 'em men, lizards and even a bird once.

He wasn't surprised anymore.

"Let 'er go and we will take ya alive, savvy?"

 

[Tryp West]

Her hands had immediately gone up, reflexively, to the forearm wrapped around her throat, and the waves of memories drowned out anything else.

*Flash*

Fear. Hands wrapped around the throat of teenage bothan, squeezing-

*Flash*

Hatred. No background noise as she sighted down the barrel of the blaster.

*Flash*

Greed. Rifling through the items in a blood soaked handkerchief.

*Flash-Flash-Flash*

Tryp gasped for air that had nothing to do with the arm around her neck, forcing herself to swim up and out. It was rare for it to be so overwhelming, but taken on the heels of the flashes from the room itself and the strong emotions of the clawdite himself (herself?) meant that Tryp was nearly drowning in the memories. Like fighting a rip tide, she tried to swim at an angle to it, focusing instead on the wavering sight of Jackson Singh.

It took a moment to surface far enough, the voices of the pair coming through like sounds under water, to assess the situation.

She and Jack's eyes caught for a moment and she gave him the barest nod.

And then jerked her head to the side, away from the clawdite's face.

If he didn't understand, or wasn't fast enough, or didn't have the aim she was gambling he did, well....

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

He did understand. Was fast. His aim was impeccable.

But only because she gave him the signal.

It might not have been enough, if not for the emotion he was getting from her. Resolve, determination, in that moment Tryp actively picked not to be a simple victim, a plaything amidst two challenging parties. She made a decision and in turn Jack's revolver whipped up higher, trigger squeezed next and the shot went off. It roared and took the clawdite in the face.

Clean shot.

Just one.

It was instantaneous and that was fine for Jack. He walked on over, Tryp fallen to the side, the clawdite still twitching just an inch. Revolver was aimed again and another shot rang out, double tapping him in the head.

"They got a tendency to come back, these." Singh murmured as explanation. To her? Maybe, but it was also for him. "You okay?"

Hand extended for her.

Jack remembered the last time, but it was still an offer he had to make. Just a thing like that.

 

[Tryp West]

The sound of the gun, the way it recoiled in his hand, the weight of the Clawdite as it fell, arm still tight enough around her neck to bring her down with it. All of it was distant and for a heartbeat, unreal. And then it narrowed back into laser focus and Tryp oophed as she hit the ground.

Planting her hands on the ground, she rose part way, then went back down. Shaking.

"Ey, need a sec. Took more outta me den I t'ought," she said with a small, uncomfortable laugh.

She had acted without hesitation. Trusting him. She'd been cool and calm in the face of someone with a gun to her head and memories of the people they'd murdered flowing in.

But now?

Now she needed a minute.

She looked over at the Clawdite, their face slowly bleeding back to their natural state and shuddered, scooting away slightly.

"Dat was a nasty one, yeh?" She said, looking up at him, her eyes a little hollow.

Tryp was a lot of things. But inured to violence, unaffected when someone was prepared to kill her (of that she had no doubts)? No. She was shaken and didn't have enough of an ego to pretend otherwise. Eventually she reached up, taking his hand and letting him pull her up. The feelings flowing from him were unsurprising now, and while not technically weaker than before, paled in comparison to the combination punch of the chamber and the Clawdite.

"Good shootin'. Glad ya dinna miss."

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

He gave her a moment.

More than one, really.

Instead Jack crouched down next to the Clawdite and started patting them down to see what they had on them. "Ya good- impressed. Ain't often a civvie thinks on 'er toes as fast as that." Singh calmly said. He was making conversation for the sake of conversation, because he felt her mind reeling. She was solid, not good, but doing her best to drag her mind back from the brink of ohfethialmostdiedohfeeeth.

Doing a good job too.

"Yah..." Jack mumbled, finding a credit chit and a data-link. There wasn't a place here to check it out, but there might be something there. Maybe information on how this bastard kept managing to escape by the nick of time.

"Smart tenacious bastard. Bad as they come, mebbe worse." She was lucky. Both of them were- that they hadn't been caught in that explosion. She was pulled up and this time her reaction was different. More muted really. Part of him wasn't surprised, not with that thing attached to her for a brief moment. "Me too, luv, me too." He activated his wrist-pad and logged the bounty.

Would be a good pay.

"Wanna talk about it?" Looking up now, meeting her eye a bit before rising away from the corpse.

 

[Tryp West]

"Bin in more den my fair share a' scrapes," she grunted as she reached a full stand. She closed her eyes, everything swimming for a moment- not uncommon when she'd taken in too many outside memories in too short of a time. Holding onto his arm for a minute, she didn't lean against him, but she did let that touch help keep her balanced while she fished for the gloves at her belt and pulled them on. Too much more and she wouldn't be able to keep it all sorted. Knowing her limitations was an integral part to doing what she did, and she had just the right balance of pride and good sense to take the necessary precautions without forcing more than she could handle.

Looking down at the Clawdite, she grimaced.

"Bad an' worse," she confirmed. "Not a shred a' good in dat one. Could feel it."

Tryp wrinkled her nose.

"Best ta put one like dat down. Nuffin else ta be dun wit' a rabid hound like dat."

She shrugged at his last question.

"Not much ta talk 'bout. 'E woulda killed me. Didn't. Every time dat 'appens ya get a glimpse at chit ya regret."

Tryp paused, offering him a wane smile. She wasn't okay, but she was going to be.

"Fortunately, dat list 'o mine is small, savvy? So it's jes 'bout gittin' mah feet back unner me and truckin' on."

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

That surprised him a bit.

Oh, he agreed with her assessment. Some people just couldn't be saved and this one hadn't been a person for a long time as far as Jack knew. But it wasn't exactly an opinion or stance that he was expected to find in a civilian. Experience was a schutta though and had a way to harden even the most sensitive souls, that was something Singh knew for a certainty.

"Aye." He said. They stood there, in silence. She supported by him, him staring at the corpse, didn't matter he had done this sort of thing so many times. Jack didn't enjoy killing either way.

"Ain't about 'em tho. Killin' 'em, that is." It came out of nowhere. Didn't rightfully know why he brought it up, but something had pushed him. "Anytime ya kill, takes something from ya. Dat's the truth. So."

Shrug before they turned around and left the room with the music box and the corpse behind.

"S'always the question of what's worth more in these situations- ya soul or justice." No, Jack preferred to bring them alive. If execution waited for them? Fine. But he wasn't the hangman, not the executioner. It wasn't his business to deliver 'em dead, even if it would be more convenient. But this situation was what it was. Either it was Tryp's life or that nasty one's.

Ain't a question.

He was looking up to the ladder again now.

"Ya fine with climbin?"

 

[Tryp West]

"'Aven't experienced dat fer myself," she replied. "But I've seen it 'nough times in others. I dun envy ya dat job ya do, Jackie-boy. But dis was well done, fer good reason. Meybe not a ting ta be proud a? But ye kin sleep at night, knowin' ya did right."

They started for the door and she paused, frowning.

"Sec."

She let go of his arm, heading back into the room. Farther this time, all the way up to that altar. She paused there, frowning. She had seen exactly what had been done here, a hundred deaths in a single flashing instant. Perfectly content wearing her gloves, she reached out. With a soft snap the lid of the music box closed, cutting off the song. Debating for a moment, she picked it up and tucked it under one arm before joining him again.

"A'ight. Les go."

They made it back to the ladder and Tryp looked up it, squinting slightly and weighing. Kneeling, she took off her pack, slinging it over her shoulder to unzip and slide the music box in. She cushioned it gently in her jacket before zipping it back up and settling it once more.

"Nuthin' to it but ta do it, yah?"

With a sigh, she stepped up to the ladder. Gripping the rungs, she took a moment, then looked up and started climbing.

Reaching the top, Tryp knew that a break after this one would be good. Take a couple of days, maybe a week, before fiddling with new artefacts. Let [member="Samson"] pick their next location maybe.

Helping each other, they managed to make it across the empty lift shaft (though this time it was slightly more one sided, she'd admit). Once to safety, she put her hands at the small of her back, closing her eyes and arching back, stretching out the muscles. She could feel the headache starting to form, this time right between her shoulder blades. It was going to be a doozy.

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

Didn't seem like she was having a lot of trouble with the ladder.

Well.

Relatively speaking towards what she had been through just a few minutes ago anyway. He had known sentients, any species, any gender, to be frankly useless right after a thing like that. Shaking, shuddering, crying sometimes, they had to be babied. He didn't blame them. Didn't even particularly think bad of 'em- more often than not the regular person wasn't capable of handling these sort of situations.

It's why there were people like him to do the job.

Just the way economics and society worked. Cushion the majority with the time and energy and souls of the minority. "Ain't nuthin' but the truth, luv." Jack retorted as he watched her go up.

He didn't miss... the... goods she was packing.

Prim. Head tilted for a moment, just slightly, before catching himself and looking away. Then looking back. Away. Then Jack realized that it would be best to start climbing, so he would be able to help, if needed. Get'a grip, ya loon. Maybe about five or six minutes later they managed to get back on top and Singh stretched with her, it was more difficult than he had imagined.

Not a lot of purchase there.

"Fff, could use a drink or two, you?"

 

[Tryp West]

"Meybe even three," she said with a chuckle. The laugh itself was a little hollow, but she was holding together.

"Not gonna git any more work dun today. Town's not that far'a walk, an' I bet we kin find somewhere dat'll drop an ale or six in fronta us."

That trip was made in mostly compatible silence. Both of them sitting with whatever was on their own mind and respecting the silence of the other. He could feel the tension coming from her, even without his Zeltron senses, the way her shoulders hunched, the pinch between her brows. She was handling it as well as it could be handled, but there was no mistaking that it had impacted her. Of course he didn't, couldn't know the additional weight as she was slowly sorting those images and memories into boxes she could put away.

She'd learned a long time ago not to ignore borrowed memories. But cataloging them mentally, and certain mental tricks made dealing with them, and keeping them from becoming fully integrated with her own, real, memories, was important. She'd learned some of it from her own parents, and some of it she'd had to figure out on her own. But without the sorting job, things became a jumbled mess, blurring the lines between hers and theirs.

By the time they reached the bar, she was feeling a bit better- moving like this always helped, and she'd sorted through the worst of them by that point. There was still that deep unpleasantness that rubbed through the back of her mind like rotting velvet, but she could manage.

A weeknight, the bar was only half full, so they had no trouble finding a pair of stools next to each other and flagging down a bartender to order drinks.

"Whateveh ale's on tap'll do me jes fine," she said, settling down with a relieved sigh.

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

"Yesplease."

That was all they needed really before they set off on their trip. He noticed immediately that Tryp was taking an entirely different route than him and it was so much faster. Telling her that got a wistful smile, but only a small one. Didn't take a Zeltron to know that she was carrying the luggage around and trying to take care of it.

It got better.

The more they walked the more clear her head seemed.

By the end of the trip she was... Jack wouldn't say okay. But he didn't think a few ales would hurt now for either of them. Is good. "Same 'ere, thanks." The stool wasn't comfortable and he was glad he was still wearing his coat, because the bar looked like it hadn't seen some brush and oil since it was cut.

But Jack wasn't one to complain, certainly had seen worse throughout the years.

Speaking of. "Ya move through da ruins without fear, Tryp, musta seen lotsa weird stuff in t'galaxy, yah?" No need to bring up the Clawdite again he reckoned.

 

[Tryp West]

She turned to face him fully on the stool, one of her elbows on the bar, obviously not that concerned. Well, he'd found her kneeling in the dirt so it couldn't be much of a surprise that a little bar sticky didn't really phase her. She was still wearing her dig clothes after all, and a little more dirt wasn't going to make a big difference.

"I spend a lotta time 'round dusty an' abandoned tings," she said with a bit of a self deprecating chuckle.

"Kinda used ta picking my way about. Dat place? Piece a' cake. No sink holes er hidden underground rooms prone ta collapse. Ta be fair," she paused to take a drink of the ale.

"Mmm dat's nice. Ta be fair, was a little dull afore yer interuption. Hadn't found much a' interest fer mah work."

She offered him a wry grin.

"Won't go wishing fer more excitement fer a while tho, tell ya what."

Taking another long pull off of the ale, she tilted her head at him.

"Other den followin' psychos inta ruins, what else you like ta do, Jack?"

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

The memory of the spider flopping on top of his head and scaring the ever livin' feth outta him was still fresh on his mind.

Odd how that seemed more real than how he'd just killed a being.

But that was ya mind protecting yourself from reality, as far as Jack was concerned. His first kill? Threw up. Second? Same. But the more you did it, the less it started to affect you... physically anyway. It wasn't healthy, more like your mind just gnawing off a part that was starting to kill the surrounding cells. An act of self-preservation that had consequences.

He gladly took 'em.

In between her words Jack took a sip himself - s'okay, ain't a Corellian amber, but what is? - and hummed in moderate satisfaction. "Suppose's a matter of... acclimatization then." Took him a moment to get that right, but one syllable after the other was drawn out 'til it was all there. "Will admit- that catacomb spooked the feth outta me. Five minutes in? Already had a melon-sized spider jump on mah head."

Shake of the head there, maybe even a little shudder 'down the spine. "Always gotta be spiders."

That question was mulled over with another long pull from his own glass. Then he shifted a fraction to get her into view, before shrugging. "Some things 'ere and there, like to sing, draw, whenever I am 'round a planet with an ocean, I try an' fit a divin' session."

There was a smile there, slowly poking around the corner now.

"Just hobbies, ya dig? Ain't be winning medals or anything." Punctuated by another long pull and finishing the glass. He gestured for a refill, elbow leaning against the bar and jaw lightly supported by his palm as he met her look and gave one in kind. "What about ya? Can't be all spoopy ruin huntin'"

 

[Tryp West]

"Oh, dem's harmless. The big 'uns I mean. Kin't even bite through a human's skin. It's the little 'uns ya gotta watch fer in that place. Like ta lurk a'hind door handles-"

She stopped, laughing a little at the change of expression on his face, then wrestled down the smile with a gulp of ale.

"Sorry, I'll stop," she apologized as soon as she realized it was actually a thing.

She mulled over his answer, rolling the glass between her hands absently across the bartop before taking another long drink.

"Wouldn'ta pegged ya as a singer, Jack. I write music me'self, but I dun sing it. Mostly all synth, ta sell ta other artists. Got a couple a pieces I wrote on da top forties charts in da core," she added, not bragging, just explaining.

"Mostly spoopy ruins," she admitted guiltily. "I work a lot. I like what I do. Dun leave a lot a time fer other stuff, yah know?" Tryp leaned back, cocking her head thoughtfully. "Job let's me travel, which I like. Meet new people, see new places. Got itchy feet ya see. Dun like ta stay in one place too long. Hmmm. I watch bad holo flicks," she smirked. "If'n I need somet'ing ta relax. Read, fiction mostly. Git enough non-fic in real life, wandring 'round dos ruins. I kin juggle, does dat count?"

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

Eyes widened a fraction when that particular factoid was dropped on him.

"Oh, laugh it up, goggles." He flicked one of the coasters at her indignantly, but chuckled anyway. "Had a nasty one drop on mah face when I was a lil' lad. Then mah da thought it would'a been a good idea to scare me outta it one morning right after I woke up." Another shudder followed soon enough. They were creepy, nasty little buggers and he didn't want any part in 'em.

Fact was that Jack would now have to look at every door handle with paranoid scrutiny.

A shrug followed soon after that. "Like I said- hobby, ain't gonna be winnin' any competition. Like to play 'em guitar and sing a bit when da ship needs some rest 'tween trips, ya?" His tempo and timing could use some work, but the melody was usually okay. His voice was also not comparable to a cat just thrown in da water either. Just a bit scratchy, 'til he had something to pour down his throat and wet it.

"Ey, if ya enjoy it, s'allthat matters." Nose wrinkled at the thought of the spiders. "Juggle, eh? Why dontcha show ya skills we got 'em coast-"

Jack blinked for a brief moment when the rest of her explanation rallied back up again. " 'old on 'ere. Does that make ya like... a... literal... ghost writer?" The smirk followed next- Singh was clearly pleased with that one as he finished the glass and requested a refill.

 

[Tryp West]

She dodged the coaster, eyes laughing despite trying to keep her face serious. It never worked well and she ended up with simply a smile on her lips as she finished her beer, signaling with him for another. It was enough to loosen up the tension sitting right at the base of her skull, but if she had too many it'd end up coming around to worse, so she decided she'd take the second one slower and limit it to that.

"Coasters're too light ta juggle, sec," she said.

Stepping onto the low rung below the bar, she stood up, tipped over the bar itself to reach into the prep area. "Put 'em on mah tab," she said with a wave at the bemused bartender as she selected the three worst looking whole lemons and settling back on the stool.

It started with two, easy, arcing over and past each other. She added the third, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth slightly in concentration. She kept her attention on the fruit as she juggled, but tried to answer his question.

"Yep, literal ghost writ'r," she confirmed, eyes on the lemons. "I use psychometry ta read da memories offa stuff from old ruins- I like pre-plague stef, personally- den I write music offa dat. All synth, but I keep a couple o' my favorites fer meself. I kin play a coupla instruments, but singing is- well, imagine I'm waggling my hand insteada throwing fruit an ya git da idea. Anyway, sell it off ta performers in da core. Dey go gaga fer it. Keeps my ship up, my larders stocked and plenty left ova ta enjoy r'else send back ta da fam."

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

He leaned in against the corner of the bar and watched her prep.

Soon enough the lemons were twirling around in the air. She was good, even at two she made it seem like the easiest thing in the world- at three there was concentration to it, but that didn't stop it from being impressive whatsoever. "Dang, ya good at dis." Jack commented while watching her work her magic. He listened at the same time tho and nodded alongside her.

"Well, mebbe.. I will get to sing to ya." He mused softly while sipping his drink softly. Hard pull, but nothing too much from the ordinary. "Make it a pretty jam session, eh? Could be a fun thing."

He teased further while watching her.

Tongue bit softly between her teeth, she was having fun with it and Jack was most certainly impressed. "Sadly I can't just whip out a pencil and paper and show ya my magic." Jack commented as she wound down the twirling of the lemons and settled back in. Another ship and a sigh of contentment as the beer went in the right direction and kept him warm. "How ya doin' down there?"

 

[Tryp West]

She briefly debated asking him to toss her another lemon, then decided that would just be showing off. One, two, three, she caught them each in one hand and put them back on the bar. If the bartender wanted to use them he could, or he could charge her.

If he charged her though she'd take them with.

"Hmmm, music an' hang, meybe," she said with a smile. Her second beer had been brought by while she'd been juggling and she took a sip, smaller than before. "If'n we're evah in da same place wit-out 'avin' guns pulled, could be fun."

She smirked at him at the last part.

"Down der? Ya callin' me short, Jack? Cause, I'm pretty sure I'm tall 'n ya."

Taking a sip, she stood up straight, laughing.

"Come on, git up. 'Down der' indeed. Lemme see."

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

Music and hang.

Ha.

"Mmhm," Yeah, he'd like to see Tryp again, he mused as he watched her juggle. It was odd, this. Felt relaxed, easy, it wasn't the ale either. They only had their second glass and both of them were taking it easy after a thing like that. You didn't want to drown your feelings out. Not with alcohol, not with anything else. Sure, put it aside for a little while, but eventually you had to deal with it one way or another.

Otherwise?

"Could teach me to juggle too."

Bad things happened and Jack wasn't interested in that.

He had done bad things in his life. Owned that. But there was a choice there- could either whine about it, brood about it or forget about... or Jack could try to leave the world a bit better. A bit more pleasant. It wouldn't make up for what he had done before, but he didn't like the other options. So this was as good as it would get for Singh and he had made his peace with it.

"Think ya might be right." Singh climbed back up to his feet and stepped up to her. Close. He suddenly realized. Oh, she was also taller, but that fact kinda escaped his notice.

There were other things on his mind right now.

 

[Tryp West]

"Yah prolly could," she confirmed, squaring up to him. "Learn I mean. Ya got a good eye an' good aim. Dun tink it'd be hard fer ya ta learn."

Boot tip to boot tip. She regarded him for a moment, on hand reaching out to rest on his upper arm, the other coming up to measure from the top of his head to-

"Ha!"

The top of her forehead. Not a lot, but there it was.

"Told ya!"

She laughed, but it was an easy, relaxed thing, brown eyes sparkling as she bounced her eyebrows up at him.

Tryp hadn't taken off her gloves when they'd come into the bar. In truth, she usually wore them out and about in public. Didn't need random memories jumping out to bite her. Most things were fine, most things didn't have strong memories associated with them. But she never knew when a barstool or a brush with a stranger would send her staggering.

"But yeah," she said, laughter fading even if the smile didn't. "I kin teach ya."

She didn't get invested in his answer. It could be banter that basically meant politeness. But she meant it on her end. She wouldn't mind seeing him again at all. In fact, she'd kind of like it.

[member="Jackson Singh"]