Log:Defiance Guild: Mos Eisley

Panic at the Droidsco

OOC Date: March 14, 2017
Location: Tatooine
Participants: Defiance: Tarion Tavers. Nyla Forr, Sapphira Tavers, Naelyn, Jehni'va Cihn, and Hex as GM

The short story: Hex smokes a bowl and sends the Guild off to obtain an information-carrying droid from some Jawas.

The long story:

MOS EISLEY CANTINA, YOU GUYS! You wanted Star Wars! You got Star Wars! The song is playing, THE SONG, you know the song, because that song is still a thing like 35 years after A New Hope, shhh yes it is. The atmosphere is smoky and they don't serve droids here, and the intervening decades have done nothing to lean up what an insalubrious dump this place is. It's full of gross, weird aliens. One of whom, of course, is Hex Ashkuri, alone at a booth and smoking something in a long pipe.

Sapphira is in a ... cantina? The one who barely drinks? She fell right to sleep after sharing that flask with Naelyn last night, and slept hard. And yet ... here she is. Perhaps, just perhaps, this place will also serve food, because food is what she's after.

But her first step into the cantina is ... overwealming to say the least. So many species, so much jizz wailing, it's just ... sensory overload. So she stands at the door and blinks a few times, letting her eyes adjust to the dark haze. She doesn't have long, though, because a creature that looks suspiciously like a giant mosquito is in the doorway behind her, and he shrills a shreeking sound in Sapphira's direction. She looks behind her, stumbling away and down the steps into the cantina proper. "Oh, I'm sorry!" She says, quite apologetic. Then she looks for a place to hide, out of the way, and to find food. Scanning, scanning ... HEX! "Sir!" She sounds quite relieved to see him, and makes her way in his direction. "Excuse me, sir. Am I intruding?"

"Kassurra, ai'jou," Hex greets Sapphira, and says something or other to follow, but he's continued in Ryl, instead of just issuing the Ryl greeting and then switching to Basic. It's got a 'come here, come and sit,' type vibe to it though, and her smoke-shrouded boss seems pleased, or at least unsurprised, to offer her a safe haven at his booth. It's hot outside, the burning heat of two suns -- cooler here in the bar, but it still smells like the sweat of a great variety of species.

Sapphira seems a little uncertain, but with the help of that tone, she takes the seat. "Oh, thank you sir," she says, hoping that she guessed right and that she isn't, in fact, intruding. "I slept so late," she confides, a hand touching her head as though there might be a dull ringing there. Naelyn and his hidden flask! "And I woke up famished. They ... they do have food here, right? What do people eat, all the way out here?" Because this is where people farm moisture. They farm moisture. Inedible moisture.

Hex starts talking in Ryl again, but eventually seems to figure out he's got his brain on the wrong language setting and clears his throat, switching back to basic. "Ka, if you are wanting a proper meal you're better off at Jo's Triumph, it is being of an actual restaurant." Right language, but there's some messed up syntax still crossing over, keep trying Hex, you'll get it. "They are having small okay food for you though here, ok ka. Do you want something to drink? Let me buy for you something to drink. Oh and food, I will get for you only something to eat." He's gonna pick it, gonna pick it himself, oh god oh god

Sapphira blinks once or twice, and eventually she manages to wade her way through Hex's Spanglish. "Oh, that would be very kind of you, sir. Perhaps some caf, and ... just a little something to tide me over, that'll be fine. I imagine when Tarion's awake he's going to be howling for some sort of bacon or other, so I can have a full meal then." She smiles gratefully to Hex, looking around the cantina again. She's in a safe place now, in the booth with Hex, and it allows her to view her surroundings more fully, without being jittery. "This place is ... it's like Nar in a bottle," she admits, looking back across to Hex again. "May I ask, sir, is there anything else we ought to be doing while we're here? Any .... well, any /people/ who might need assistance of some sort while we're here?" Slaves. She means slaves.

"You are not worrying, ok ka," Hex reassures, the number of ok ka per minute clearly rising to a higher frequency when he's saturated his brain in whatever dubious substance he's smoking. "I will everything for you to be done. Stay here." There's not really waiters and waitresses at a place like this, so he gets up and shoves his way up to the bar, returning a short time later. He's got an enormous glass of something definitely alcoholic, and a tray of meat skewers. What kind of meat? Who knows, maybe don't ask, but it smells good and he parks it in front of Sapphira with pride. "Eat, ok, you are so thin, all of you ai'jouku look like every day you're starving, you need to remember to eating. To eat. What? People? All of us need assistance, Safi'ratavers." Congrats you now have a a Twi'lek name. "All of us."

"Stop calling him sir." There's Tarion, finally showing up from the sand-blasted streets and looking less than thrilled about being here. "It's too kriffing dry on this rock," he complains. "There's no buildings, there's no rain, my skin feels like it's set to peel off my flesh. When are we leaving?" He plops himself down at the table with them, scowling furiously. "Do they got any bacon?"

"Oh..." Sapphira's mouth makes a little 'o' shape as Hex gets up and goes off. When he returns, that 'o' shape is echoed in her eyes. That's a lot of meat, which granted does look pretty amazing, but the alcohol? That's ... that's a lot. "That's for you, isn't it?" She asks, sliding the big glass of booze in Hex's direction. "I don't think I'd know my own name if I drank all of that." Safi'ratavers. That's what it is. Still, the smell of the meat makes her smile, and it also elicits a very loud grumbling from her tummy region, one that Hex can likely hear even over the sound of the music and general ruckuss of the place. She blushes, the blush managing to touch both sides of her face now that she's healing. "Naelyn's skinnier than I am," she taddles, albiet good naturedly. She smiles at the man's name. HE'S LIKE HER FAVORITE NOW OKAY?!

And then there's Tarion, and she blinks and smiles at him too, grouchy that he is. She immediately slides the plate of meat in Tarion's direction, in a silent offer. "He's my boss, and yours too. Why don't /you/ call him sir?" That's an idea. But then she looks back to Hex once more. "All of us? No I meant ... I mean Tatooine is a slave planet, isn't it?" She wants to do a good!

"Tarion, ai'jou, mo'cridh, come and you are sitting," Hex seems happy to have Tarion here. Or, possibly, he's arranged his brain chemistry so that he doesn't actually have emotions right now that are something other than low-key stoked with everything. "Eat some things, drink some things, I will buying them ok ka, you will feel better about the way your beige skin is to be turning pink and peeling and falling off you." Hex himself doesn't seem worried about sunburn, but the sunny side of Ryloth is like a worse kind of Tatooine. "Eat. You are also too skinny, ok, you look poor. All of you look poor." Quit trying to make him work, Safi'ratavers! She's tried a couple times now! But Hex eventually tunes in to that, and raises a brow. "Ka, I have met some people, there are some interesting opportunities on Tatooine. Some to free people, ka, some to make some money.... some to be dying miserably in the desert... I am sorting out which ones are the which ones, ok."

"Because he's an absolute trashfire and I don't want to cheapen the term," Tarion replies, immediately snatching up a skewer of meat and brandishing it like a club. "I don't think I could say it unironically, either." His scowl opens enough to take a bite of meat, ripping it off like a barbarian, a bit of grease dripping onto his fingers. "Get us the ones that make money," he advises Hex astutely, waving furiously at someone who turns out not to be a waiter and at some point in there he remembers that he's supposed to be happy when people can see him. His expression clicks like someone turned a dial over to the smirking, irritating grin he usually wears.

"We look poor?" Sapphira seems surprised by that. Naelyn gave her a new wardrobe and everything! She looks down at herself and brushes some sand and dust from the lap of it. Then, at last, she reaches for one of the meat skewers, using her index and thumb to draw the meat off the stick before she rips it in two and takes a bite. She considers. "We should do both," she tells Tarion, chewing and considering more. And then her face starts to turn red. "Hothothot," she breathes, reaching for the big alcohol that Hex bought for her. And she takes a big swig, wrinkling her nose distastefully as she tries to make the burning, spicy sensation go away. A big gulp or two and then she sets the alcohol down with a gagging sound. "This one's yours," she tells Tarion, sliding that torn peice of meat in his direction.

"Ka, you look poor," Hex confirms, after contentedly exhaling smoke away from the Taverses. "Like you are not affording enough to eat. Like you are poor and you go without meals because you're poor." He's not eating, or taking their food, and the only possible explanation is either that he's been eating all morning, or this is some kind of appetite suppressant he's smoking. "I maybe have something you are doing for us here while hirani nonna sells the cargo. It is necessary you are speaking to Jawas, however, ok. Maximum negotiation."

"That's me," Tarion puts in, grinning widely in the glow of his self-satisfaction. Maximum haggling firepower, baby! "And don't be such a baby, I know you like it hot," he teases Sapphira, perhaps not about food as he plucks up the half-piece she shoved at him and pops it into his mouth. The heat phases him... not at all. Apparently he eats a lot of spicy food; just one more vice for his body to cope with. "When is it going to be necessary that we speaking are of things with those who are Jawas in their minds and bodies but in spirits not?" he asks Hex, raising a brow, deliberately mirroring the Twi'lek's wonky speech to confuse him further.

Sapphira takes another big gulp, and hiccups, and then sets it down. She perks up at Hex's words, and you can almost see her ears arching forward to hear more. This sounds like an adventure! She loves adventure! So she's listening close as Tarion and Hex discuss the matter, though Tarion has at least succeeded in confusing her, if not Hex. "He makes more sense than you do," she informs her husband, blinking owlishly at him a few times.

"Ah, my talented and noble ai'jou, always willing to help.... and also Tarion," Hex beams at the kids. "Ok, you are doing this for me, then." He doesn't seem to mind Tarion's mocking of his Ryl syntax/Basic language mashup, but then again, it seems highly probable that Hex hasn't noticed it, and that whatever Tarion said makes as much sense to him as anyone else does. "You are going to the Jawa traders not far from here. You are buying a C1-series astromech droid, ok ka, and there is being reason to believe it is having incomplete memory wipe and holding information useful to me regarding who is buying and selling of the slave trade on this planet. Easy, ok ka? Very easy for you."

"You're still paying for it, though, right?" Tarion asks, switching to standard basic grammar to make sure there's no confusion about that. "Assuming yes, I will do this thing for you. This monumental task. And I will keep the change." Haggle tax.

"That does sound easy," Sapphira coughs again. "But my binary's pretty good, and droids are always fun to tinker with." Not that she will with this VERY IMPORTANT DROID. "Maybe they'll have something good for sale. Seperately, I mean." Suddenly, the thought of having an astro droid of her very own seems to have piqued the girl's curiosity. "But yes, this sounds easy, sir, and we'd be more than happy to do it." She takes a new peice of meat, sliding it off the stick and tearing a peice off and eating it. This one is much better for her.

"You will buy it. I will be reimbursing you," Hex informs Tarion. "If you're not wanting to..." He lets one shoulder rise and fall in a philosophical shrug. "This is okay to me, I will doing it myself later. This is of your choosing, ka or koa."

"Ka," Tarion decides, nodding as his player returns with food. "I'll do it."

Sapphira beams, the beam is a little sloppy but it's a beam all the same. "Great!" She says, a bit too loud. Thankfully, the place is generally noisy so she doesn't get any looks for her sudden enthusiasm. "We'll head over there right away, sir." She's so eager, this little brown nose.

"Okay." Is there a reason Hex didn't ask them to do this when he was sober? IS THERE? Who cares. Not him, right now, Hex thinks everything is great. "Off you go then, ai'jouku! Go and buy me the astromech. I will meet you back at the ship." And with that he gets up and slides out of the both, and moseys on out the door, back into the harsh light and heat...

Tarion leads the way to the Jawa traders, still not thrilled about this freaking desert crap. "Well, let's get this farce over with," he's saying to Sapphira. "I can't imagine these little brown-robed shits are much good at negotiation, so this should be a breeze.

"They do buy and sell materials for a living, dear," Sapphira warns gently, and then hiccups. She's not the most stable on her feet, but the time in the hot sun seems to be draining everything out of her. Energy and tipsyness. "I'd imagine they're actually fairly good at it. But we should look and see if they have anything I can fix up. Between Hex's fleet and my other work," Since Asiir shall not be named, "I could use the help."

There are, in fact, brown robed little shits everywhere. Jawas are infesting this dingy tent/building like sand fleas, hopping all over, screeching at each other in their Jawa-language. They stink, as though they rarely remove those robes or wash them, but there's no water here, so can you blame them?? Their eyes glow and they're already pointing at Sapphira and Tarion, pointing at the human pair and jibber jabbering. There's a line up of droids here, all sorts, fitted with restraining bolts. There are three C1 series astromechs.

"There's three," he comments to Sapphira, ignoring whatever else she said. One track mind, activate. "Three. We don't- we're buying them all." The hunter strides up to the lineup, putting his hands on his hips in a sort of Captain Morgan pose. "Jawa traders, heed me! I have come to purchase your cheapest droids. Show me the cheapest ones you've got." Please speak basic.

"Oh. Can I keep one, then?" Sapphira asks, rather hopefully. "I mean, they /all/ look much worse for the wear, but I bet I can clean it up, maybe do some upgrades. It certainly would be nice to have the help." She looks to Tarion, and smiles her sweetest smile with her most sparkly eyes. Come on, Tarion. Treat Yo Wife.

Of course they don't speak basic, but they seem to understand it. The jawas separate until one, maybe a leader-ish sort, steps forward to deal with Captain Moron over there. He's shaking his little head and jabbering in Jawa, emphatically swiping his arms in a 'no can do' gesture and then indicating a nicer, newer looking R2 astromech unit.

"You no speakee basic?" Tarion asks the little brown-robed shitstain. Really, they smell absolutely terrible, it's canon. "Bringee Big-man cheap droids, Big-man got small wallet," he says, trying to communicate. He glances at Sapphira with a 'I got this, yo man gonna get u a cheapass droid' kinda look before making a show of his empty wallet. The fake, empty wallet he keeps in his back pocket in case he gets mugged. "Needee cheap droids!"

"Oh that one /does/ look nice though, Tare," Sapphira says, apparently forgetting that they're here for a very specific purpose. She moves toward the nice R2 unit, if the Jawas will let her of course, to crouch down and look over the thing. "He's covered in sand, I bet it's all in his gears," she reports, as if this is why they're here. She runs a hand along the underside of one of the legs, and wrinkles her nose. "And it feels like one of his magnetic plates is missing." She turns to look back to Tarion, and the sight of him seems to remind her of why they're there. Oh. Right. She reaches up and scratches the back of her neck uncomfortably. "But ... you're right. It's ... it's too much for us."

The Jawas are much happier with Sapphira's inspection of the R2 unit, and are encouraging it, talking to her incomprehensibly about all of its fine features and services. There's a burst of protest about the missing magnetic plate, but again... it's all in Jawa. Meanwhile the leader Jawa is still standing in front of the C1 units, shaking his wee head, and operating under a general "No can do, buddy" kind of attitude. Since they don't seem to like that R2, one of the Salespeople Jawas points out an R1 unit nearby, like, how about this one then, you cheap asses?

Tarion looks at Sapphira. He looks hard. "Dearest one," he begins in a pained, patient voice, running his hand down over his face. "Please step away from that overpriced heap of junk. We can't afford it." He looks over at Jawa Leader Shit, and then he spreads his arms wide toward those C1 models. "But /these/! I've heard great things about bang for your buck on the C1 models, that's a real discriminating consumer's choice! Cheap construction, shit reliability, but lots of functions! And if I get all three, then when they break it'll be no problem to cannibalize them for parts."

Sapphira gives Tarion a little apologetic pout, but she does rise and return to his side, even if she is still giving that R2 unit a bit of bright green side eye. "Right," she agrees. "Sorry." And she is, too! She knows she might've just made things a little more difficult. She she bites her whore-red painted lower lip and turns her attention to the C1 models.

The tent/building is somewhat busy with people perusing the droids for sale, some human, many not, and a big Shistavanen pads in, looking snarly and wolfy like they always do, greeted immediately by Jawas who seem to know him. Money is being exchanged, and accessory Jawas are waking up one of the C1 units to bring forth to him. Leadership Jawa points at this, then points at Tarion, and makes his nope nope nope gestures again. No can do. Already sold.

"Listen, whatever he's paying, I'll beat it by /five percent,/" Tarion announces loudly, climbing atop the nearest slightly taller mound of sand, spreading his arms wide and flinging them upwards. "FIVE PERCENT, you little shitstains! This is a good deal." Tarion and Sapphira are in the market for a trio of droids, which the Jawas are reticent to sell to them. Probably because there's a Shistavenen already collecting them.

Sapphira is left gaping at Tarion as he spreads his arms wide and starts shouting 'five percent!' to anyone within earshot. She blushes, most likely on his behalf. Once more the girl looks around, this way and that, as if trying to find something, to come up with some sort of idea. "That's not fair at all," she scolds the Jawas gently. "We wanted those, we've been asking for them." Still, fair or not, it is what's happening. Sapphira is out today, but not in one of those Naelyn dresses. No, she's wearing a fluttery thwab-style garment, tan in color because that's all they sell here, with loose fluttery pants of the same material underneath. Think light, airy harem pants. The thwab has a loose hood, which she has up over her red hair to try and protect her fair skin and freckles from the heat. She's gone native in the dress sense.

Naelyn makes his appearance, draped in his light colored robes, draped in such away to highlight the flashes of skin that his outfits always have, his hair is mostly concealed by the hair covering that is silvery, a thin tan veil pulled over his mouth, leaving those intense eyes and the bridge of his nose exposed. The slender dancer rests a hand lightly on his satchel, lashes fluttering as he takes in the setting. "...oh my, my apologies...my master..said this was the best place for droids...." He has his slender weapons concealed as usual as he looks around. "But it appears...perhaps...I am wrong..."

And after Naelyn come two more! "You ordered a droid mechanic?" Jehn announces sleepily, rubbing a palm against an eye. She's in some light desert-safe, sandy-colored gear and a pair of fancy-pants goggles with her name on them. She appears trailing lazily after said mechanic. Go, be grubby and free, young Forr.

Now there are so many more DBAGs, and the Jawas are thrown into confusion and disarray, jabbering at each other in an even more fevered pitch. JABBERING INTENSIFIES. They're flailing and arguing with each other, but Tarion's haggling skill seems... woefully inadequate. The leader Jawa just shakes his head and points to the R2 unit again, quoting a new, lower price... in Jawa, so who knows what that price is. Meanwhile, the Shistavenen is completing his transaction, and says in a low, growly voice, "I'll thank you not to be stealing my drrrrroid, human. Buy the R2 unit or go elsewhere. The C1s are sold."

Haggling is not working. The language gap is too large, and Tarion is getting pissed off. For a man in armor with a rifle slung on his back, his face red already from the sun and the dry air, he's looking none too pleased with Wolfboy over there. "You think I won't?" he asks back to the furry alien, blocking out the rest of them while he asserts his presence over the situation. His hand reaches back and swings his rifle into play, not pointing it anyone in particular but making it clear he's not afraid to escalate this way past the point a rational person would. "I'm leaving with these kriffing droids, one way or another, so you can talk business with me or I'll leave a trail of brown throw-rugs in my wake. Unless you want to be the centerpiece of the new collection, then /back off./" That's for the Shistavenen, with a meaningful glare from the angry failed haggler.

Nyla Forr wrinkles her nose up at Jehn as she plods in, wearing a dusty red jumpsuit with a short, front brimmed hat jammed over her short hair to keep the sun from her eyes. She has droid mechanic tools on her, at least to anyone who would know what they be. She hums, turning to eye the droids around the shop. Something akin to wanting pity fills her face, probably much like Jehn would look like at an animal shelter. "Woah," she says with a glance at Tarion. "Mind if I try?" she asks as pleasantly to Tarion as she can muster, tilting her head at the fuzzball and his new C1.

"Tare, don't," Sapphira says gently in her husband's direction. But it's like trying to talk down ... well it's like trying to talk down Tarion. It isn't easy. She takes a half step back, and a flutter of fabric and a voice catches her attention. "No, it's not!" she announces to the stranger. "They sell droids out from others, racist against humans is my bet..." she's doing that thing. The 'I'd like to see the manager' thing, that is almost always followed by 'Well I'm never coming here again and I'm telling all my friends' thing. She turns then, to see who she's just spoken to. It takes only a second or two of peering into those eyes over the veil for Mrs. Tavers to realize who it is. "Naelyn!" She sighs in relief, stepping toward him and putting a hand gently on his arm. "Master, what master? Wait no, nevermind all that," she says, turning her own green gaze back up toward Tarion. She's starting to get red in the cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, damn Tattooine sun. "I think we might want to amble over toward some cover, if this is going to go down the way Tare seems to want it to." She sounds apprehensive.

Naelyn is watching things unfold, idly slipping something from his satchel, two short thick wand like pieces that he screws together, slowly, to create single staff and he just watches. A pause as he looks to Sapphira with a small smile and a wink. "It will be okay darling..." He nods politely to Jehni and Nyla. "Alll my girls in one place...pick out what you want, hm? You are overdue nice things." He leans slightly on his staff, staring at the wolfalien. "I already know what I want..." His accent thickens just a tad more, that purr more pronounced as he looks him over slowly. "Leave this one little droid behind and I will come and find you later...that is a promise..." A hand moves to unfasten his veil, exposing his features, full lips curved in a small smile and eyes filled with promise.

Wooooah! Hey now, she just came to deliver the droidwiz. Jehn holds her hands up as things get heated - doubly so by the twin suns. The olive-skinned pilot isn't made for this unrelenting desert heat, but she does seem to be better suited to it than Tarion and Sapphira; all red and blustery and swinging a rifle around like they (mostly Tarion) are. "Is this -" But her complaints toward these aggressive tactics are lost when Naelyn takes a... Different approach. Is it hot out here? Actually, yes: two suns. Still gay. We're all good here.

"These droids look rough." Jehni'va finally comments after tearing her attention away from a high seduce roll and the promise of very wolfish sexy time.

PANIC, AAAAH, PANIC AT THE DROIDSCO, PANIC, Tarion's pulled a rifle and all the Jawas begin screeching, scurrying about, wailing, carrying on, Jawas are pretty good at pandemonium. "Crrrrotting psssycho," the Shistavenen accuses Tarion, pocketing his credits again as he's failed to finish his transaction with the Jawas. Several other customers are discreetly exiting stage left, too, they want no part of this. Shisty is already leaving, angry, GONNA GET A POSSE, but ah, then, what light in yonder hovel breaks, it is the east, and stupid sexy Naelyn, the sun. Shisty smooths back his head fur and recites a string of numbers, likely a comm code, and puts a hand up to his face in a comlink type gesture. 'Call me,' he mouths and then moseys off, in a way better mood. There is probably no posse arriving now.

So now, all 3 C1 droids are still here, the Jawas are Scareion of Tarion, and a little pissed about his disruption to their business. Everyone thinks Naelyn is hot. You can try to buy all 3 droids, maybe, or perhaps determine which single one is the one you need.

"Alright, vermin, you've averted catastrophe due to your fabulous benefactor, the sexiest ma- wom- the sexiest piece of ass alive!" Tarion announces, still with his rifle in his hands. "So now there's gonna be a quick and easy transaction between you, and me, and the droids." He glances over at Naelyn, stage-whispering, "Please tell me Hex told you which one we're supposed to get."

Nyla Forr kind of... stares at Naelyn. She's distracted, slightly disturbed, and has to almost physically shake her confusion about the whole situation away. "Huh." She looks at the droids, but there is just too much sand wear on them to be able to really tell their usual use or any identifying marks of their old owners. Frown. She pushes Tarion's threats away, the incessant chattering of the Jawas, and the seduced wolf man out of her mind. "Okay... I can... I can figure this out." Nyla sucks in a breath and steps towards the droids, jolting slightly as the Jawa nearest to her hisses a word. "I just wanna chat with them, okay? And... I mean. You can let me do that, can't you? If there is anything wrong with them I'll fix it for free, too. Just gotta let us talk to the droids, okay? Two minutes."

Sapphira also gapes at Naelyn. Literally, her mouth is slightly gaping as she watches Naelyn move. After a moment or two of gaping, she exhales in a heavy huff. Right. "Talk to the droids?" She asks, turning toward Nyla as she hears the words teh other woman speaks. "May I help as well? My binary isn't the best, but I studied it for four years so hopefully it has some worth." She smiles at Nyla from beneath the thwab's delicate hood. "I won't get in your way, I promise." Now that it seems Tarion rules the chaos of his own creation, Sapphira apparently feels much more secure in moving through the camp and making such requests.

"My dear brother only told me he had the utmost faith and trust in your ability to complete this very honorable task." Naelyn replies to Tarion, pulling his veil back into place and bowing his head to Nyla as she makes her request. He raises his voice. "Lets play a game then...there are three beautiful droids that we would love to take with us, so...let these two lovely ladies ask two questions each of each droid..after hey ask, we will decide which one has given the best answer..." A pause. "Then we will also purchase that R2 unit." A pause. "Or I will have to serch your ledgers to make sure we are getting our money's worth...."

What's a poor, lazy pilot - fresh out of bed - to do in this situation? Jehn steps aside to examine the other droids; maybe it would be nice having one around that doesn't snark at her at every oppurtunity. She thinks, at least. She's sure - Nyla won't confirm, but she /knows/ that's what they're beeping and booping about when her back is turned. HMPH. Take that, Pickle, Jehn is going to go and poke at the R2 unit like she knows what she's doing. Mmm yes, this is a droid.... And that's about as far as her knowledge goes. Instead, she tucks herself under the meager shade and casts a sidelong glance at Tarion while Naelyn deals with the speaking and the girls deal with the bots. "Sorry you didn't get to shoot that guy." She actually sounds sympathetic.

JABBERING INTENSIFIES again as the droid-seller Jawas confer amongst each other. They look like tiny, glowy-eye versions of Hex having a discussion about anything: loud, flaily, incomprehensible. The general consensus seems to be'"give the crazy people what they want so that they leave,' in the end, and the leader definitely seems consoled by Naelyn's offer to buy the R2 unit as well. Jawas scurry up to snap the restraining bolts off the C1 droids, all of whom begin to light up and whirr and beep and tootle. They're not happy with where t hey are, and communicating with them is going to take some careful attention.

A mouse droid has got free of somewhere, and begins bumping itself neurotically into Tarion and Jehn's feet. If you stomp it, you have to pay for it.

"Yeah, well, there's always next time," Tarion replies to Jehni, shrugging as the women start to take over this whole 'droid' thing and he lets himself fade back from the Jawas he's undoubtedly terrorized so that they can, you know, do the actual work. He picks up the mouse droid when it bumps into his feet, petting it soothingly before he sets it free again and it immediately starts bumping into him once more. So much for that. "....I don't want to piss them off when they eventually take over," he explains to Jehn as he wanders back further to let it bother her instead, "but that thing's got about three more bumps before I stomp on it."

Nyla Forr squints her eyes as she begins to kneel at the droids. She lifts a hand, curling it on the edge of the droid. "Talk to me, pal. Who owned you last?" They all do their panicked beeping and Nyla is forced to sit back. "Woah, calm down," she coos at the C1s and glances over to Sapphira with a lip bite. She's a Tavers but... she knows binary. Nyla warms up to the new woman a tad. "What do you think?" she asks, turning her eyes towards the red C1 with a curious frown.

"We don't even need to play a game," Sapphira says, looking over at Naelyn. It's a knowing look, and one she offers to Nyla as well. She heard it, she understood it, but she chooses not to vocalize any of it. Jawas have ears, after all. Or holes. Or antennae. Or some way of registering sound. Sapphira actually has no idea what a Jawa looks like without the hood. But that's neither here nor there now. She gives Nyla a very confident nod when the woman eyes the red C1. "Yes." Total confidence, here. But then Sapphira looks back to Naelyn with a little blink. "What are you going to do with that R2 unit?" she asks, oh so very nonchalantly.

Naelyn understands what is being said, but being he creature of mystery that he is, he simply adjusts his hold on his staff, trailing a finger up and down the length as he lowers his eyes. "Equatia, my own droid, is always bitching about me bringing home lovers when she has no one..." He drawls softly to Sapphira in reply before whistling sharp. "Master T, can you please send a message to my brother that reads 'I am going to burn all your stash, you verdant munchfungus asshole. How dare you let me be sober for this. All my Love, Liarra.'" Then to Jehni he shakes his head and sighs. "I will share my stash with you however honey." Back to the matter at hand. "Buy the red one and one of the others, along with the R2. Do what you can to do basic maintenance of however many you so wish darlings." Then to the little hooded critters. "I have a question for you all..." He toys with a credit chit. "Were...any of us here today?"

The droid babblers are killin' it, look at them go! A moment is passed watching them curiously amongst the bustle of the trade post, hands stuffed into the deep pockets of khaki desert-space-kapris-things. "That's the spirit!" Jehn yawns at Tavers (the Tavers whose name is more often preceeded by 'that asshole'). The one who, apparently, knows the truth to the real nature of the lovable mouse droids. Finger blasters are shot at Naelyn before a hand is placed over her own heart. 'Bless.' She mouthes at him, coupling it with a little bow - one that is DISTRACTED. "What are you doing?" The pilot demands of the MSE now terrorizing her own feet as she eyes the chittering Jawas that swarm and bustle around them. Tarion has abandoned her out of fear. "What do you gain from this?" She whispers to it.

At the end of the day, Jawas are neurotic, dishonest, and excitable, but pretty pragmatic. They're already fastening bolts back on one of the three C1s -- no chance for extra conversation -- when Naelyn says they'll buy the R2 and two others, and when he holds up the money and asks if any of them were there, it's a chorus of resounding Jawa NOPE, shaking their little heads, nope nope nope nope. The R2 and Red C1 and Other C1 are being unbolted, and herded in the direction of the group. The MSE continues to neurotically fixate on running into Jehn and Tarion.

Being a paranoid bastard, Tarion watches the mouse droid with a sort of twisted fascination, waiting for it to spew some sort of psychotic razor saws from its mouth or something, but then something clicks in his head and he blurts "It's trying to /warn us!/" About what? His eyes whirl upward, casting about the tented area looking for what, but he sees- nothing. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Sapphira, Nyla, wrap it up, the mouse /knows,/ ok ka?"

Nyla Forr twists around as she stands, wobbling a little as her low blood sugar screws with her. "Ugh, um. Okay. Let's just... get out of here, okay?" She steps close to Jehn, looking down at the mouse droid thing. She frowns at it and watches it bounce between Tarion and Jehn. "Does it... want to go with us or something?" Nyla stuffs her pockets with balled fists and sucks in a deep breath as Tarion kind of loses it.

"Warn us of what? There's nothing here, and thanks to Naelyn the only real threat is now in love with him," Sapphira points out. She pats a hand on the red droid, once the creature is free of it's bolt. Dust and sand flies up from that little flop. "Ew," the redhead says, looking at her hand and then dusting her palms together to try and clean them. "I think we're done anyway. Come on, you, and let's see about this trap of yours," Sapphira tells the red droid, trusting that R2 unit to follow as well. "Nevermind about getting them cleaned and fixed up," she tells Naelyn. "I think Nyla can do that, and I can certainly try to help too. I think Tarion would be much happier back on the ship." And keeping Tarion happy is very important.

"Lovelies..." Naelyn instructs Sapphira and Nyla. "Please be a dear...and scan the droids please...for anything we should be aware of." The credit chit is handed over to whichever jawa handles this stuff. Then a look to Tarion and he stares at him for a moment, then over to Jehn and he adjusts his grip on his staff, scanning the area uncertainly. "Come now, in my line of business we have a saying. If you are already in the middle of getting badly screwed, know it is not going to get better. Lets move out. Do not load the droids until you have done a full diagnostic..."

Jehni'va is nudging back at the mouse droid with her foot, scowling at it. Picture two eight year olds poking each other until it turns into a pathetic slap fight. But! The ball is moving! And... Are we panicking? "Warn us?" Jehn snorts, bending to pat the annoying shoebox on the... Head? STOPPIT. "I don't speak that. Tell one of them if you want to come with." She chides it, glancing at Nyla as she approaches. "Oh, we're leaving? Cool." With a small tug at the fabric at droid mechanic's elbow, she falls in behind Naelyn. Woo droids! Nothing at all could possibly be going wrong! How easy! Simple! See? This is how business is meant to be run. Ah, Defiance - what a stand up, uneventful group of dudes.

Money is exchanged, the Jawas wash their hands completely of ever knowing any of you (the only manner in which they wash their hands), one of them captures the neurotic mouse droid, and New R2, Red C1, and The Other One trundle along obediently after their new owners. New R2 and Other One seem pretty calm now that they have new owners and aren't among the Jawas anymore, but Red C1, for all its warbling about traps earlier, is silent. They follow the DBAGs to the landing field, where Naelyn wisely suggested a scan prior to boarding.

"There's a bomb in the droid!" Tarion frets, swinging his rifle onto his back and advancing on the C1 droid, pulling it aside and taking a knee in the sand. "Okay little... bolt-buddy," he mutters, flipping the panel open to access the controls or whatever the hell. "Just- /deactivate/ the bomb. Spit it out, or... whatever makes you get rid of it." The droid doesn't seem to understand what he's trying to do. "/He doesn't know where it is/, someone help him!" Tarion has gone mad, it seems. "Or just put him on the ship without me and I'll take the shuttle home."

"Tare!" Sapphira scolds, or maybe just cries out in surprise, as Tarion starts to tear apart the droid. She hurries over beside him and kneels in the sand, opening another panel on the opposite side. "Oh foshfeathers," she swears, looking over the mechanisms in front of her. "They never taught us this," she tells Tarion, surprised and almost offended by the thing that's spread open before her. "This is /ancient/. Thisi is older than both my parents put together. Nobody who's been educated in the last twenty years knows how this works." The academy is all about cutting edge, after all.

"There isn't a bomb," Nyla grunts as they move away from the lair of the Jawas. She moves to join the Tavers and kneels. "Someone is watching us. This droid is broadcasting something..." She squints at the red C1 unit. "Speak for yourself," Nyla says to Sapphira pops the covering metal on the front of the C1 off, which whirrs with shock and slight annoyance. She starts to work. "I had a C4 when I was a kid. They're not... so different. We have to stop it broadcasting. Tarion /calm down/."

Okay, perfect. Aaaabsolutely nothing wrong - except for Tarion and his... What the hell. "Ohmygosh /chill/." Jehni'va whines, though she still hides behind Nyla when she joins Sapphira and Tarion at the Red C1. These poor Jawas just wanted to unload on some droids and instead they wind up catering to these psychos. Well, these degenerates and Tarion. But she can't help but agree that there /is/ something weird about the thing - which Nyla quickly clarifies on. "Who would be watching us?" She questions uselessly, inching out from behind the smaller woman to squint at the C1's guts.

"Watching us?" That could be worse. "It's seen our faces, it /knows./" Tarion's doing his best not to wring his hands and, you know, just shove a thermal detonator in there and call it a day, but the girls seem confident they know what they're doing even if they don't share his psychosis. "...how long will it take to turn it off?"

Nyla Forr shakes her head. "I dunno, J." Her hands wrench a little further into the front portion of the C1. The droid is beeping as her hands curl around it. A communicator device that has been spliced into the wire framework of the droid. "Not long," Nyla promises Tarion with a smirk as she yanks the device out. The C1 'bzzts' and shuts off as the now-parted wire dangle limply in it's cavity. "Sap. Think you can splice that wire back together so we don't have to lug this thing all the way back to the ship?" Nyla stands and eyes the device in her hand. "We should do some tests on this thing when we're back on Nar. Might tell us who?" It's offered out to Tarion. She doesn't want the responsibility.

"Oh here," Sapphira says excitedly, reaching out to take the communications device from Nyla's hand. "I minored in comms," she explains, hopefully taking the item to look it over. Either way, it doesn't take more than a glance. "And /that/ is something I understand," She says, grinning from beneath the sandy-colored hood. The redhead does take a moment to glance at the droid and the wires, nodding. "It'll take two minutes," she assures Nyla. "If you guys want to head off to the ship to get her ready, we'll be right behind you. Oh!" She blinks, as if remembering somethign very important. "Hex! I think he might still be stoned out of his mind in one of these bars."

Yeah, get it girl. Jehn straightens and moves to hang near Naelyn - the safest choice in this group, really. "As long as we're not loading a bomb onto the ship." She drawls with only some hesitation. AND ALAS! /There/ is something that she knows. "I'll get him." She promises, pulling the doughy pastry snack that she had been saving for later in her pocket. It's not wrapped. There's a hair stuck to it. "Hex?" She calls out, wandering in the general direction a bar should be held, waving the pastry above her head. "Heeeex?"

That's a decent way to summon Hex, but he appears from the Aristocrat's landing ramp, not the bars or the town. And he stopped smoking at some point, though there's a relaxed attitude about him that suggests he might still be riding that wave. "Oh, you're back," he greets. "With droids!" Pause. "Why the hell did you get so many droids?" he asks, totally unsympathetic to their struggles at the Jawa shop, then says brightly, "Well, bring them on in," and disappears back into the ship before anyone can strangle him with his own lekku.