First Reply Where you lookin' to go, boss?

[In Rhan]

The Dancer in Green, somewhere near the Core​

All things considered, The Dancer in Green was a fairly large ship. The old Besaid-Class Freighter had been slightly altered over the years in a variety of ways - notably, most of the crew quarters had been removed to make room for extra storage, including a large frozen section for perishables. But the first thing that most people noticed were the plants. In Rhan was an amateur botanist by trade, in the oldest sense of the word. The dozens of flower pots, hydroponics trays, and sealed environments had nothing to do with the way the Pantoran woman earned her credits, and were likely more her calling than long-distance freight was (if such a thing could be believed). Nearly every plant served a purpose, providing herbs, veg, fruit, and similar functions. Some were simply flowers. All added to the atmosphere of the ship - the scent of rust and ozone offset by a floral bouquet and fresh herbs in the sections of the ship that In called home.

---

While In was predominantly a long-hauler, anyone who worked for herself had to keep an open mind to possibility when it presented itself. In In's case, that meant supplementing her income whenever possible. Having loaded up with a full berth at a Core world with a route planned far out to the Outer Rim, she'd posted up on the station bulletin that she was willing to take on passengers heading in her direction. A modest fee for a comfortable room & board, along with a slice of the cargo bay for personal effects. Maybe a swoop bike and some personal effects, more if they wanted to make use of the auxiliary storage. Minimum questions asked. The main rules were explained before takeoff - no slaves, no zombies. A reduced rate arranged for anyone who wanted to work as crew and defer the cost a bit. In was nothing of not a compassionate person.

Only one customer had taken her up on the offer, and that was fine. They had a schedule to keep.

As The Dancer in Green left the planet, In glanced back over her shoulder into the comfortable galley - filled with hydroponics trays and the scent of good food, the main place to be on the ship that wasn't a private room. "Alright - hyperspace in 5 minutes. Where you looking to go, boss?" The lanky Pantoran woman asked cheerfully.

 

[Xoff Chantin]

Xoff Chantin

Outfit: Something Nice

He’d been silent for most of the pre-launch, tucked deep into the far corner of the galley like something freshly unboxed and not ready to be placed where he was supposed to go.

Xoff sat on the cushioned bench with one boot propped under him, arms resting on the table. He hadn’t unzipped the bodysuit beyond the collar, hadn’t slept, and hadn’t said more than what was necessary to get aboard. Now, with the ship purring beneath him and the Pantoran’s cheerful tone grating against the side of his skull, he finally spoke.

His voice was low, yet still carried his refined lilt. Something that had been broken apart and put back together with trembling hands.

“Nal Hutta,” he said. “Black Sun space. Chantin estate.”

A pause. Then, as if remembering something vital–
–he let the thoughtt go after a moments hesitation.

His eyes remained fixed on a blue blossom clinging to its stalk in the nearest tray. It was very beautiful.
He wanted to tear the petals off, one by one.
Instead, he leaned back and folded his hands. “I’ll pay double if you don’t ask about the wedding ring.”

There wasn’t one on his finger.
But the tan line was still visible.

In Rhan​

 

[In Rhan]

The nameless man currently sulking in In's galley was, if she was being perfectly forthright, one of the most gorgeous individuals she'd ever seen. The way he was put together, the way his outfit had been selected, the accessories and accoutrements and trappings - flawless, both by her (limited) understanding of fashion and her (somewhat more developed) opinions about what made a man look nice. Granted, she entirely knew that this was likely informed partly by fact that he was a Zeltron. But not all of it.

More importantly than that, he seemed to be having a profoundly horrible day. And she understood that, even knew a little bit about that. She'd felt like that a couple of times, including when she and her then-wife had gotten into the last of a year and a half worth of fights that'd ended with shots fired and bitter recriminations that still informed how In interacted with people. The sort of truths that cut deep because they were delivered by someone who knew what you actually were underneath it all.

She wondered if the nameless, gorgeous man was having a day like that. She wasn't about to ask about it, OR the tan line. She'd had her own once.

"Sure thing, boss." In promised as she moved into the galley, bustling about in the attatched kitchenette. Most of the stock appliances had been replaced at one point or another. Shelves were filled with secured jars containing a small treasure trove of ingredients and experiments - dried herbs, seasonings, jars of pickling or fermenting vegetables each carefully labeled and secured with straps. A fresh dozen brewer's bottles stuffed with pine needles and bubbling liquid.

The Pantoran smuggler tried very, very hard to keep the pity out of her voice while leaving the compassion in. "Doesn't count as asking to say you look like you've had a real one. How about a drink?" She asked carefully, pouring two glasses of fizzy spruce beer from one of the brewer's bottles.