Private You Are Cordially Invited

[Kingsley]

STOLEN SITH SHUTTLE
HUTT SPACE
​

"Rrrrawk! I can't believe I'm nervous."

Captain Kingsley straightened his bow tie in a grimy mirror. This ship had been pristine once years ago before the smuggler stole it for a quick escape from local authorities. Now it was covered in junk and foul liquids. He checked that his faulty navcomputer was still on course for their rendezvous. Noise from the rear cargo hold drew Kingsley's attention and he felt another wave of butterflies. Maybe he needed a little more liquid courage.

"Coming, darling!" he squawked.

Taking a few deep breaths, Kingsley coughed up a wad of viscous phlegm and used it to force any stray feathers on his scalp down. Then he picked up a bouquet of truly horrific smelling flowers before unlocking the hold and slamming it shut behind him. His heart nearly stopped when the vulture laid eyes on her. Even chained to a bulkhead Amani Serys looked just as shiny as when he'd abducted her from Kwenn Station.

"Rrrrawk! Miss me?" the smuggler asked while she was still recovering from being stunned, "You were so hysterical with joy when I asked you to run away with me. Had to take matters into my own hands!"

 

[Amani Serys]

Kwenn Station was supposed to be a pit stop. A bit of refueling, restocking, and Amani would be on her merry way. Hence, why it particularly confusing as to why it felt now like she was waking up from an unpleasant hangover. Or why she was in a strange cargo hold. Or why she couldn't move.

Amani blinked. Her languid movement quickly turned to a jolt of panic, for whatever limited motion her current confines offered, "Ow," the surprise was put on hold by a headache. It wasn't clear whether her continued nausea stemmed from the effects of the stun, or the less-than-stellar condition of the ship she was now trapped in. Unfortunately, a bit of both in all likelihood.

As vision cleared, Amani was expecting to see some nefarious Sith Lord, perhaps a vicious marauder. This was just some nasty bird in a bowtie. Synapses slowly fought to form a vague recollection of past events, "...Run away?"

Oh dear.

"I'm sorry… What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kingsley​

 

[Kingsley]

STOLEN SITH SHUTTLE
HUTT SPACE​

Despite her rude language Kingsley seemed untroubled. Amani Serys struggled with her bonds while he rummaged around the fetid dungeon which passed for a cargo hold. He even hummed a screeching little tune.

"Rrrrawk! Darling, you're still confused."

His beak twisted into a kind of grin which was probably meant to be reassuring but looked predatory instead. Humanoid courtship rituals could be so confusing. There wasn't this much drama back on his home moon. Kingsley revealed a bouquet of rancid flowers hiding behind his back and shoved them right under Amani's nose.

"We're getting married!" the smuggler squealed with delight.

Kingsley tilted his head at her. This close his breath reeked almost as bad as the flowers. She could also now clearly see rows of pointy fangs. Was that unsettling gleam in his eye one of hunger or...real adoration?

"You really don't remember?" he asked now looking slightly crestfallen, "Rrrrawk! Must have stunned you harder than I thought. We met back on the station? There was this instant unspoken connection between us? You didn't handle it well at all. To be honest, you kind of freaked out."

He gazed past her with a dead stare as if reliving the memory.

"Don't worry! I sorted everything," he squawked, "Paid off station security so no one's even looking for us."

 

[Amani Serys]

Efforts to get her bearings were made all the more challenging by the overwhelming pungency of the cargo hold. Although conversely, when he shoved the flowers right under her nose it acted like a stimulant; In a 'most unpleasant smelling salts in the galaxy' kind of way.

Her face contorted into a grimace, "…Married? Oh, gee- I, uh- On second thought I'm not quite sure I'm ready for that kind of commitment." She approached the topic diplomatically. Amani wasn't sure whether to be angry, or pity the delusional bird.

Well, then he reaffirmed that he very much did stun her, kidnap her, and bribe the guards to forget about her.

Prior events became clearer, and Amani nodded as if to confirm her own memory, "I believe my exact words were, ah, 'I don't know who you are, please get away from me or I'm calling the cops,'" She commented as if it were a simple recollection rather than a snide remark.

"I'm sure there's plenty of other women… or men… out there that are more… your speed. Sooo maybe you could just let me out of here maybe please maybe?"

Kingsley​

 

[Kingsley]

"Rrrrawk! So, you do remember!" Kingsley clapped in relief. Such a fond memory.

He continued rummaging around the cargo hold while Amani Serys protested until the smuggler retrieved a small but vicious looking blade. Advancing on the terrified young women, he then reached up to finish snipping a wreathe of droopy junk hearts dangling above her.

"You're just nervous," he dismissed Amani's many pleas, "Everyone gets cold talons. Don't worry baby, till death do us part."

Kingsley scratched his tailfeathers with the cutters in thought.

"Kingsley's hunting for more than just a trophy wife," the vulture gestured around his noxious hold, "Rrrrawk! Soon all of this will be yours too!"

 

[Amani Serys]

Amani became particularly tense at the sight of a blade, only for him to subvert her expectations yet again. Finally the struggle against her binds slacked, as she resigned to lacking any noticeable way out for the moment.

"All of it, huh?" She responded dryly. Her unenthusiastic gaze drifted across the acrid nest of junk that made up the room. Not exactly the most appealing gift she'd ever been offered. If ironically the most generous, in a sense.

"Is this uh, usually how your relationships start out?" Force forbid someone else had been subjected to the same attempts at courting. Somehow the possibility didn't surprise her, though.

Kingsley​

 

[Kingsley]

"Rrrrawk! What can I say?" Kingsley shrugged his massive shoulders, "I'm a romantic."

Suddenly aware of her proximity, the smuggler leaned in as if for a kiss before their shuttle came to a jarring stop. Her captor was knocked on his rump and a small cloud of feathers exploded all over Amani Serys like a scattergun.

"This must be the rendezvous!" he cried, opening the shutters on a nearby viewport, "Behold, my love! Your chariot awaits!"

In the black of space, a ramshackle monstrosity drifted into sight. It was the size of a bulk freighter yet the jawa craftsmanship held together in defiance of common sense. Kingsley puffed up his chest at this starcrawler with pride.

"Can't have a wedding without a best man," the smuggler explained, "Rrrrawk! These guys and me go way back. Taught their captain everything he knows."

Laser cannons opened fire. Sparks flew everywhere and Kingsley bellyflopped back onto the shuttle deck, knocked senseless.

 

[Amani Serys]

Lovely.

There was an initial pause in which Amani did not even realize why Kingsley was leaning forward, but the conclusion she reached was enough for her to cringe at the thought. Her face seemed to repel away instinctively, like the same pole of a magnet, as much as her constraints would permit, “Our lips… are not… compatible,” His beak drew nearer, until the sudden stop of the ship put the attempt at romantics on halt.

Amani sighed in relief, until any hopes that the intervention was on part of some savior were dashed. A massive, Jawa crawler sat placid among the stars. She didn’t even know such a thing existed. Among its crew, Kingsley’s would-be best man, apparently. “...Do I get a maid of honor?” Maybe she could call someone that would help her out of this mess.

There was no time to get any real answer, as the starcrawler then opened fire. Their own vessel quaked under the impact, though Amani remained more or less rigid thanks to her restraints. Decidedly, this was not the way she wanted to go out. “Shit,” Her gaze darted across the messy hold for some method of escape, but landed on nothing. In her frustration, Amani turned to telekinetically throwing around piles of scrap and junk, in a dire hope that any metaphorical (or literal) key would present itself. “Hey bird guyyyy, why is your best man shooting at us?” She whistled for his attention, to see if the blast had really done him in for the time being.

Kingsley​