Log:Circus Chaos
Circus Chaos
Overview
A trip to the Lost Circus on Nar Shaddaa turns in to a nightmare as a handful of Nexu cats overpower their handlers and attack bystanders.
- Date: February 3, 2021
- Rating: PG - Violence
- Plot: Not Applicable
Participants
Log
Day break. Finally. After days of irate weather that streaked the mottled sky a sickly greenish hue with lightning and covered the ground with slick, effluvial grime, the sun has begun to appear. It is still a subdued thing, barely able to pierce the screen of pollution and the dim haze of the planetary shield that wraps its way about the entire moon but it's a welcome change for most. Much like plants, sentients that were not raised within the confines of caves find themselves uplifted. For some, this buoying of spirits leads one to venture outside and evade the dangers of the moon in search of its pleasures.
For the felinoid known as Risani, this means ice cream and a tour of the circus. She wanders about largely aimlessly, tail flitting this way and that, humming a melodic tune of unknown origin. Her tongue laps at a cone of something cool and dairy-like in appearance, save for what appears to be cubes of meat. The woman's yellow-flecked eyes are wide. The saucer-like ears on her head swivel about unable to focus on any specific sound.
Dressed in form-fitting leathers and a crop top, over which a jacket protects her from getting her fur too dirty, Risani blends in with the rest of the crowd as any other spacer might. She's bare foot, the oversized feet not making it easy to find boots that fit her particularly well, and the pads of her feet are sufficient to deal with most of the debris strewn about. As a commercial area though, things are usually swept well enough.
The circus is fairly busy and packed with pedestrians. All is well, joyful and chattery. Then a scream pierces through the din and everyone instinctively turns towards the big tent in the middle.
Leather... crop tops. No! Xyo... is there to check out the inferior beliefs of an alien species, arriving in a new, white uniform, her boots black and polished, as she frowns about, head swirling, sword at her hip still, raising an eyebrow at an 8-year old who tries to drag his mother off for ice cream, as if she found it strange.
As the scream comes, Xyo reaches for her sword, one hand on the hilt, the other on the grip of her blaster. Still, she just... walks over there. Calmly, not even making an effort to try to run.
Shaali Brak WAS enjoying the circus. She had something large and coated in dough and then deep fried. Some hunk of meat, and there's a nice drizzling of sauce on it. She's dressed per usual, wearing her flight clothes. Because that's about the only outfit she currently has. It makes laundry day really awkward. She's just taken a huge bite out of her fried mystery meat, when the screaming happens. She quickly begins to chew it up, hand dropping to the new blaster she's wearing on her hip as she starts towards the big tent. Because that's what reasonable sentients do. Run TOWARDS the screaming.
With something to focus on, Risani's ears immediately pivot to the shrill noise and the following cacophony as the audience within the tent panics. Humanoids of all shapes and sizes spill out from the open exits as quickly as they can manage. Bodies pile on to bodies and inevitably, as soon as someone trips, survival is the only thing that the wild eyed scrabbling people can think about. Blaster fire then can be heard. Capacitors whirring up to fire superheated plasma at whatever triggered the chaos before the heat is dissipated through expendable cartridges. The felinoid pauses mid-stride and blinks as her yellow-flecked eyes catch up to her more agile ears. She merely freezes, unable to register what's going on. Her jaw goes slack, ice cream drips down the length of the cone to stain her fur, her tail stops swaying.
The rag dolled body of a security personnel member through torn fabric presages the arrival of the Nexu cat. All smiling teeth and no fun, it follows after its limp quarry with a shrill screech and a bounding leap before it mounts the battered body and reaches down to crunch the head off in one bite. It looks up then, aiding its swallowing with gravity, before turning to regard the chaos. Fangs stained crimson, it roars.
Xyo might as well roll her eyes as she looks at the Nexu "Really? Surely, this isn't such a big threat." she just offers in Monotone, pistol drawn and the Chiss managing to fire a quick burst, missing by a lot "Well, I'll need to readjust the sights." because, of course, it isn't like her aim could suck "Well, everyone, if you would please get your lives away from that beast." There is no hint of concern in her voice. Or any other emotion.
Shaali almost barrel into the tall form of Risani, coming to a stop about a meter away. Her eyes go wide as she watches the security guard get swallowed. "Oh frell," she murmurs in that 'more core than core' accent of hers. The shooting though, kicks her instincts into drive and that shiney, blocky blaster that isn't ugly, it's pretty, is drawn and aimed around Risani. But not before her piece of fried sauce covered meat is thrown in the general direction of the Nexu. "FETCH!" Because Nexus do that, right?
Hunter's reflexes have Risani pivoting to meet the pale-skinned human, arms immediately rising to defend herself from the oncoming attack despite the raging Nexu spilling its gory meal out on the floor. Her treat falls to the floor. Wasted. There's no five second rule on Nar Shaddaa. The Farghul peeks from between her arms as Shaali skids to a stop. First comes the placid confusion of a blinded bantha in speeder headlights, then comes the rising annoyance reflected in her furrowed brow. Then comes the saucy meat.
"Hey, what th-- farmghghgh," Risani protests and flails as the greasy treat assails her. She battles with the precision of someone swatting away bees. Fortunately, gravity does the work for her. "What the fark was that for?!" She stands defiantly stained with gravy and ice cream. Her baubles jingle gently in her hair.
The crowd continues to push for the exits. Some have made it out, some help others, most people are just selfish.
The Nexu twists and lifts its head when it's fired upon. Even as the blaster shot goes wide, it elicits the attention of the deadly creature. It sniffs the air, hunting. Then it finds its quarry: the blue-hued Chiss. It screeches and bounds before launching itself in a frightful display of its musculature. A missile of claws and fangs barrels towards Xyomara.
Fun thing about Nexu closing in? Close targets are easier to hit. Which Xyo proves, firing a second shot and following it up with a quick swipe at the Nexu's throat "Hey! I just bought that uniform!" she offers, her monotone sounding just the tiny bit on the annoyed side "I was hoping to get more use out of it! I might just charge this circus for the dry cleaning..." she shakes her head, looking down.
"Sorry!" Shaali is a bit preoccupied to offer more than that. She's not even looking at the woman she just assaulted with her Nar Shaadaian corndog. It looked tasty, too. And smelled even better. And the taste? Well, Shaali will be lamenting its loss for years to come. Or at least until she buys another one. She drops into a crouch, bringing both hands to steady her pistol as she takes aim at the charging beast. Her finger tightens on the trigger...
...and the beast is slain. The human woman rises back to her feet, lowering her blaster pistol so it's aimed at the ground but still held in two hands. Her eyes scan the direction it came from, to see if anything else might charge forth and try and eat them. "You okay?" That comment offered towards Risani.
"Of course I'm not okay!" Risani shouts after a cursory examination of herself. Her usually clean, sandy-hued fur and blonde mane are tinted brown and a creamy beige. Tentatively, she sniffs at the affront to her usual hygiene and then laps at the surface. After a moment of ruminating her mouth, her expression softens a bit. Her eyes remain narrowed towards the middle-aged human but the desire to kill seems to have faded. "You're lucky this tastes okay. Are you spice-addled?! What the heck are you trying to do?"
Xyomara's fatal strokes take down the first cat easily enough. Its furred body slumps down and exhales one last breath before it deflates and is left motionless. But the screaming hasn't stopped.
Bursting through the crowd like a bowling ball though pins, another larger cat cleaves is way through the stragglers: the infirm, overweight, or just unlucky. It snaps at those nearby, crunching and munching as it is wont to be. A second follows. This one is more patient and plodding, seemingly hunting for specific quarry as it scents for the air. A picky eater, perhaps.
Xyo shakes her head "Pathetic. Anything calling itself worthy would attack a target that is worthy of it." she blows her hair "Which this *clearly* isn't! What is this supposed to be?" she shakes her head, missing "Beneath my dignity."
Shaali isn't even looking at Risani. Her eyes are probing and waiting and alert. "I'll wash you later," tossed off handedly at the MUCH larger woman, before she's striding past with her pistol clutched in her hands. As more Nexu come barreling through, so do more blaster shots ring out. A quick controlled pair, the first shot going into the ground causing the duracrete to sputter and pop from the quick rise in temperature. The second shot catches the Nexu in the shoulder, singing fur and possibly only pissing it off.
"What? I am not some loth-cat to be hosed off!" Risani's melodic voice grows shrill with annoyance as she traces the other woman's path. Her hand unfurls, her own claws extending for a heartbeat as she considers an ill-fated venture in to turning the other woman in to sashimi. Then the Nexu finally comes in to view and the felinoid's focus shifts from the Shaali to the task at hand. "Oh."
The loth cat recoils as blaster fire singes its fur and leaves its skin roasted and plastic. The wound is glossy, a very real divot in its flesh cauterized almost instantly. Immediately, it turns towards its assailant and bounds forward. At the last moment it leaps and swipes in a wide arc before rolling to a halt and pivoting to land facing the Farghul and the Core-born human.
"Oh kriff!" Risani calls, her eyes widening with panic. "Uh, uh," she stammers before waving her arms. "OVER HERE!"
The other Nexu merely seems to watch. It's many eyes blink in staggered succession, eyeing the performance of its brethren.
Xyomara huffs as she raises her blaster "This... this feels like slaughter." she muses,as she delivers the killing blow, before turning her pistol, as if wanting to save the two people she doesn't know "Really, why did I come here." she muses, ptting her weapons away "I suppose I'll call an ambulance."
"No, you're a sexy and tal-AHHHH!" Shaali is saved, badly, by the Nexu. There's a bite to her midsection, some shaking, and a lot of blood. And then she's tossed aside in a bloody heap, not stirring other than her labored breathing and a whole lot of bleeding.
One. Two. The Chiss coldly ends the lives of the recently captive beasts handily. Savagery seems of limited match for powerful weaponry and the third Nexu, although seemingly more intelligent than its more aggressive brethren, is unable to do more than instinctively shuffle a moment too late. They both roil with one last moment of pain induced adrenaline before they succumb to organ damage and collapse.
"What the..." Risani mutters as her attempt at distraction is made pointless. In her first act of clarity, she sprints over to the human that unceremoniously turned her in to a mock corndog. Skidding to a halt, she drops to her knees and paws at Shaali, unsure of what to do. "Dumb schutta! Okay, okay. Think." The felinoid bites her lower lip and casts her eyes to the mottled sky for guidance. Unfortunately, the divine are unwilling to offers assistance. "Uh, this is going to hurt, okie? But you kind of deserve it." With that, she roughly scoops Shaalia up and over her shoulder and strides as quickly as she can manage towards the air taxis.
The trip is an exciting one, to a point, but anything can be smoothed over with credits. It's not like the creatures that make use of the taxis are ever particularly clean and the mixture of gravy, blood, and ice cream that coats the Farghul and the middle-aged human she's dragging around is the worst that any of the automated drivers have seen. Risani stiff-arms her way in to reception and collapses to a splayed seat on the ground. Condiments and blood smear the ground. Hunching forward, Shaali's body slumps off of her body to roll out like a macabre carpet.
"Doctor! Medic!" Risani huffs between ragged breaths, exhausted from the exertion of carrying a body over such a distance having taken its tole. Adrenaline can only take her so far. She tilts to the side to lean on the cool and mercifully clean floor.
Risani is dressed in the usual spacer garb: leathers, crop top, jacket for some measure of modesty. Her companion is also modestly cast although that description is up to her. There's a very apparent bite mark on the woman's abdomen. The Farghul is just plain messy.
"Let the supplier know that we'll be ready for delivery tomorrow morning." Tamsin, closing the data entry port at the bacta supply depot which had been built into the wall of the clinic, the droid at reception nodding without speaking and turning back to whatever it was it was imputing into the system.
The banging of the doors as the clinic was entered brought Tamsin's attention around, and she moved towards one of the stretchers which was always at the ready inside the clinic. "Are both of you the patient, or just this one?" Tamsin bent down, to try to move the body now laying sprawled on the tiled floor onto the bed, which had been lowered down to only about half a foot off of the ground.
Shaali Brak's in a flight suit. Or the remains of one, since there's a big ole bite mark on her abdomen. There's likely broken bone and punctured organs. And there's definitely a LOT of blood. It's leaking all over the place. As she's rolled out on the floor of the clinic, her arms flop out causing the still warm blaster pistol she was firing earlier, and most recently clutching to her stomach, to clatter to the floor.
When the dragging begins, the middle aged woman's eyes flutter open. They're half lidded, and she's clearly in shock from all the trauma. "I don't feel so good." Her voice is quiet and distant sounding, eyes not really focusing on anything in particular. She makes no protest as she's dragged onto the stretcher. "Where's the cat lady? I want my corndog back."
Risani rolls out on to her back, starfishes, and peers up at the ceiling. She seems lost in the bright lights, disinterested in the fact that her sensitive eyes are likely being seared to death as they drink in the light through slit pupils. After a handful of heartbeats she finally closes her eyes. Eventually she tilts her head towards the Firrerreo, eyes opening just a touch.
"I'm mostly fine," Risani's melodic voice suggests, "but I could use a shower and a nap." A deep breath follows: taken in sharply but then released lazily. "Shaddup." Half-heartedly, the Farghul offers up a rude gesture towards Shaali. It involves a finger or two.
The injured woman was not dragged, but picked up and deposited on the stretcher. Tamsin had had enough practice in performing the maneuver that she managed it without much additional injury. A tap of the button on the side controls raised the stretcher to the right height for being moved towards one of the treatment wards, "This clinic is not an inn, but you might be able to find a room at the housing development down the way. I believe they do allow short term rentals." Her attention shifted to the droid at reception, "Mark treatment room one as in use, please and thank you." And then Tamsin was off. "If you change your mind about needing assistance, the droid can summon someone from the clinic staff." As for the patient herself, "Closer than you think. But a corndog is the least of your worries right now."
Shaali misses the less than friendly hand gesture. She's kind of busy bleeding out. And being unable to focus clearly she mostly just lays there. "I think she saved my life." She blinks hard, her hands moving to rest limpy on her large gut wound, in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding. "Wwwwwhere..." The 'w' being drawn out nice and long, as unconsciousness threatens to drag her back under again. "Tired," she mumbles, eyes sliding closed again.
There is something about the cool floor that is invigorating, soothing the protests of the Farghul's musculature and allowing the bile of spent phosphate to be flushed out of her system. As the hum of fatigue drifts out Risani comes alive. Her first order of business is to sit up fairly straight, legs splayed, hands pressed flat in front of her on the floor in front of her crotch so she doesn't need to support her full weight.
"That blue-skinned woman was straight up cray-cray," Risani notes. With a tilt of her head from one side to the other, she tests the limits of her neck's movement before pulling her feet up and under her rump. Rising to her full height, nearly two meters, she stretches backwards by pressing her hands in to the small of her back. "But, things would probably be bad without her. All that pew pew and chop chop." The Farghul fingerguns and chops at the air. "What was that species called again? Blue skin? Red eyes?" She talks mostly to herself but loud enough that one could hear her with little difficulty. Spinning on the ball of her foot, she pads towards the treatment room, lured by curiosity, and peeks around the corner of the doorway.
"Chiss." Tamsin did not stop, as she made her way towards the treatment area, "You are welcome to come, but not to assist." That was to the Farghul. The move from the hall to treatment one was quick enough, as Tamsin swung the stretcher into position, and pulled the privacy screen around the stretcher. The farghul could still hear, but not see the patient. Such was the way of patient privacy. She cleaned and gloved her hands, before she retrieved a pair of medical scissors to begin to expose the wound and apply some topical pain relief. "If you could give me a rundown of what lead to the injury, I would appreciate it." The medical droid which had activated in the corner began the process of prepping the intravenous system for fluid replenishment. Many hands made light work.
Shaali Brak's not really in a state to offer much information, semi conscious as she is. She tries her best though, giving the barest of details of what lead to her arriving in this state. "Nexu." Which seems to track with the rather large bite mark, and the multiple puncture wounds along her stomach and back. Though the bruising appears to has missed her spine, there is definitely a broken hip and ribs
The wounds begin to bleed more openly as the flight suit is cut away, exposing the pale and shredded flesh beneath. It could've been a lot worse, but unless treated this is definitely a mortal wound. And it's deep enough that the Tamsin could see intestines if there wasn't so much blood in the way.
As she is called out, Risani attempts to duck out behind the wall to obscure the view of her. The jig is already up, and the jingling of her jewelry hardly helps with the stealth aspect. When given tacit permission to follow along, she peers around tentatively and then pads quietly along the floor. At the very least her feet, large by humanoid standards, are largely silent. She folds her hands behind her back, settling them atop her rump as if she would be unable to stop herself from touching everything if she didn't keep them bound up.
"Ew," Risani gags audibly at the idea of assisting but she recovers quickly. "No kriffing way am I diving in to someone's guts." She lingers at the doorway, slipping her weight from foot to foot. The prehensile tail she sports sways like a reed behind her providing the timing for her songless dance. "Chiss, right." As for the incident, Risani's eyes drift up and to the right as she tries to piece together the details.
"Um, I guess some of those cats with lots of ears and big teeth," Risani begins and snarls for effect, showing off her own carnivorous teeth that pale in comparison to the Nexu equivalent, "got free at the circus and started munching on everyone. I thought they had collars or something." The Farghul shrugs and continues. "I dropped my ice cream, this /schutta/ threw a corn dog at me and then got munched on, some Chiss showed up and killed everything, and I dragged her here." Briefly uncaging her hands, she taps at her lips in consideration. After a heartbeat or two she nods sagely. Her baubles jingle. "Yup, that's it! It's going to take me days to get this sauce out my fur!" A pout forms on her lips after the rage subsides from her furrowed brow.
Tamsin, stripping away the remains of the flightsuit, began the work of staunching the blood loss, pulling over a medical tray that had both a suction system and a cauterizer for the blood vessels that would need better repair once the blood loss had abated. She worked with a quick, nimble hand, working her way through the worst of the wounds and leaving the injuries exposed so that she could see what work needed to be done. The droid, having prepped the IVs, came around the screen to begin the medical scan and to prep the patient for fluid replenishment. "A nasty beast. Not to worry, we'll have you healed quicker than you would expect. You'll probably need the tank, but we can adjust treatment once I have a better idea of what I'm working on." Tamsin continued working, using both her eyes and her review of the medical canner to guide the work. "That might explain where the mutated ones that re down in the undercity came from." Clearly, she had no trouble speaking past the privacy curtain, "There is a refresher through the door opposite the entry, if you want to try to clean yourself up."
Shaali's wounds are responsive to treatment, closing and cauterizing properly. And between the shock and the topical pain treatment, she doesn't complain much about that. She has other things that warrant her attention. "Oh no, that's my only flight suit," as it's trimmed off and tossed away. Thankfully, she has on under-things. And a tattoo on her bicep, which is just a sold black covering from upper shoulder to about mid-bicep. It's the type of cover art gangers often get when they reform or or kicked out of their crew.
The fluid replacement seems to be taking, as well. Some color seems to be coming back to her skin, and her eyes seem to be focusing on Tamsin. Though seeing as the doctor is elbow deep in her guts, she opts to save casual conversation for later. She lays her head back, shifting her attention to the ceiling and falling quiet.
"Undercity?" Risani cocks her head to the side quizzically and leans forward as if tilting her upper body towards the curtain would afford her a deeper understanding. The baubles in her hair jingle with the violence of the motion. With the mention of the refresher though, the thoughts of the unfamiliar destination are kicked out immediately.
"DO I EVER!" Risani exclaims, throwing her hands up to sky. Immediately about-facing on the ball of her foot, she bounds her way as directed and, for a moment, her bubbly energy leaves the room curiously more peaceful for her absence. Then the splashing begins.
The Farghul has little concern for dousing the entire place with water after slipping her jacket and crop top off once within the relatively private domicile. She coats herself in water and as any good fur bound creature, she is a veritable sponge despite the smallhairs and oils that are intended to minimize that sort of thing.
Tamsin heard the Farghul move towards the refresher, and the water spray that soon followed, but her concern was for her patient. Wounds staunched, she began the process of repairing the internal damage along the woman's front, working from the abdomen, where the wounds were deepest, to the dermal tears and the bite wounds. She left the monitoring the the fluid, which did include pain relief as well, to the droid. It was a bit like laughing gas was, in other circumstances. Time was fuzzy, but the woman was not entirely unconscious. "Prep the tank, she'll need it to complete healing." The droid nodded, the tank soon brought in by some of the staff and set up for intake.
"Has the Commander been briefed?" The incoherent murmurs of Shaali a good indication that the pain meds are doing their job. "He needs to be briefed." Her attention snaps to Tamsin, and she squints a little as she tries to bring the woman into focus. "Doc, when can I fly again?" The hand opposite the side that Tamsin works on starts to rise up, unsteady as it starts to reach towards her face. "Who are you? I don't recognize you." THe lifting of the arm causing her body to shift some, possibly futzing with Tamsin's work. "Where's the cat lady?"
Thump! The door to the refresher rumbles with the dull impact of flesh on solid metal followed by a vocal curse that could only come from one possible source. There's some audible rummaging again working its way from the bottom of the door up to the two meter mark before silence reigns for the span of several seconds. Whirr! An air dryer starts up, muffling a screech and another more muted thump this time. A conversation continues at this point but the words are unintelligible unless one were putting their ear right up against the door.
Tamsin removed a hand from her work, taking the hand that was rising towards her and setting it back down, unless she met resistance, back on the bed, "I am Doctor Tamsin Cas. You, are the lucky escapee from a nexu attack. If by cat lady, you mean the farghul who brought you in, she's currently driving up the cost of water in the district." The sound of dryer and conversation were both blithely ignored. "Not to worry, she'll be fine, and so will you. The sooner we get your wounds treated and get you into the tank, the sooner we can evaluate when you'll be cleared to fly again."
There is little resistance to having her hand moved. Not that Shaali has a lot of strength to resist with at the moment, being high as a Hapan's nose and about a quart low on blood. She gives the doctor a little nod, seeming to settle back in some. "Farghul. Far. Ghul. Farghuuuul. Faaaarghul." She then snorts and breaks into a soft laugh, looking greatly amused with herself and her amazing comedic talents.
Risani finally emerges from the now water-logged refresher. The room may be drenched from top to bottom, a fact that any inquisitive mind may find baffling upon trying to understand to understand how such a thing could happen, but she is at least sparkly clean. Corndog sauce, gone. Ice cream, gone. Shaali's stinky entrails? Gone. Like a butterfly bursting forth from a cocoon, she takes a moment to preen herself with a ruffle of her blonde mane and a swoop of her upper body forward and then back to ensure that every strand has a chance to layer itself neatly over the crown of her head.
"Showers are the best," Risani singsongs in a curiously high pitched voice for her size. She glances down the hallway one direction, and then down the other, before skipping back to the edge of the treatment room. She lingers within a stride of the doorway, seemingly uninterested in getting close to the juicy bits hidden behind the curtain.
"Not dead yet, I guess?" Risani queries idly. No longer bound, she starts to fiddle with whatever she can find within reach of her position. Posters? Medical charts? Cabinets? Everything is examined. Her tail flicks left and right rapidly.
Perhaps a cause of great sadness to all, all of the cabinets and storage units were locked, secured with thumbprint locks. And there was very little in the way of posters and such. Tamsin ran a clean ship. The droid, moving to investigate the movement outside of the treatment area, indicated a seat, making a motion that said, in no uncertain terms, 'sit'. "Not yet." Tamsin, having completed work on the front, looked to the woman lying on the bed, "We will need to run you over so that I can work on the injuries on your back." The droid returned for that. "Then you'll spend a few hours in the tank. It's the best way to ensure both quick healing and minimal scarring of your muscles and tissues. Anything less might impair your function as a pilot." The turn was soon managed, and Tamsin began the work again.
Locked. Boring. Locked. Boring. Also locked. Boring. Risani huffs and rolls her yellow-flecked eyes as she tries literally everything within range. When she catches the motion of the droid, she rolls her eyes as hard as a bantha that's tripped down the backside of a dune.
"Ugh," Risani groans and sets her hands on her hips. "Fine." Acquiescing to the demand, she dramatically flops on to the indicated chair with the worst posture possible. Melting in to its length, the only thing that stops her from sliding off to the floor is her oddly splayed feet firmly planted on the ground.
"How expensive is this going to be anyway?" Risani calls entirely too loudly given her proximity to the curtained area. Maybe it blocks sound? Who knows. She busies herself with idly grooming her tail. She nibbles on it a bit from time to time before picking at loose hairs.
Tamsin, having returned to work, began the process she had started on the front of the woman, working from the inside out, as she stitched and sealed and closed the wounds. Not entirely, but enough that they would hold together and allow the bacta to do the rest. "I won't know the cost until treatment is finished But I have never turned a patient away before they don't have the ability to pay." Given the location of the clinic, in literally the worst district on the moon, this was likely a good policy to have.
With her tufted tail firmly planted in her mouth, Risani finally slumps to the ground like a bloated Hutt lurching off of its dais. Dropping to her haunches rather than crumpling to the floor, she presses off the ground with her hands and rises to her full height. Phbbt. Her tail is released. It busies itself with occupying the air behind her with seemingly aimless meanderings.
"Whatever, even though she /did/ throw a corndog at me I suppose it could've been me there instead of her," Risani laments, huffing at the thought and stealing a glance at her now nearly pristine fur as if it had suddenly become soiled in the interim after her splash party. "Here, like, I'll pay for some of it whenever you figure it out. Here's some contact info," she produces a datapad from her jacket and after a few practiced swishes of her fingers, it pukes out a small chit that she sets on whatever nearby surface is convenient. "This is boring and I am super hungry. Okay?" A tilt of her head. A jingle of metal.
Shaali is rolled and stitched and cauterized, occasionally mumbling 'Farghul' or some derivitive there of. She's on another planet. Moon? She's somewhere else entirely, and she mumbles that word over and over to herself, occasionally giggling. She finally pops an eye open again to stare up at Tamsin, "Your hair is lovely. Who do you go to to have it done?" Not that she'll remember later.
"Thank you. I'll leave the bill at reception. You'll be free to pay whatever you feel you can." Tamsin, of course, could not see the chit, or the information that was being left for her. "I would not advise eating anything here in the district, but there are a number of establishments not far from here which you might enjoy." because this was the sort of thing one offered, when someone was leaving a patient's room. "I'm afraid my hair simply grows this way. part of being what I am, I suppose." This was easy enough conversation to have, as Tamsin finished the last of the work she could do. "If you're ready, we'll get you into the tank. When you wake up, you'll be right as rain."
Risani waves off the suggestion that she can't handle the local cuisine. "My tummy has seen horrors and come out unscathed. It'll be fine!" As if in protest, she burps and immediately covers her mouth. If she's embarrassed, it doesn't show - it's not like her fur can blush.
"Okay, byebye!" The Farghul spins and makes a show of marching out to the doorway. At the last second she pivots, hugs the edge of the door and looks back. "Try not to sell her organs or something weird. Contact chit!" Risani points towards the spike she's left behind although the gesture is wasted for the occupants of the curtained area being blind to it. "Okay? Okay!" Waving spastically, she zips off out of the clinic and in to the lurid night of the Smuggler's Moon.
"Oh, really? I grow my own hair, too," mumbles the still very high Shaali. At the mention of getting into the bacta tank she gives an awkward bob of her head, hands reaching to the back of her head to start pawing at her bun numbly. She doesn't manage to get it all the way undone, but she does tug a few hairpins loose that cause a climb of it to spill out. "G'bye, Farghullll!" That called out to the retreating Risani, before she laughs again at her own 'joke'.
With her bun partially undone, she tries to push herself up off the stretcher, but can't quite get her arms to lift her more than an inch or two. "What's the gravity set to in here, doc? I think your gravomitor," which is not a real thing, "needs to be fixed."
