Log:Footwork
Footwork
OOC Date: May 4, 2017
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Jonn Hardy, Valko Tosha, Rheisa Dirleel
Office - J. Hardy - Corellian District, Nar Shaddaa
The door of this office is labeled "Hardy and Solari Investigations" on a pane frosted glass, and upon entering, the dingy clamor of the Corellian District outside fades a little. However, the thin walls can't shut everything out; the whine of occasional spacecraft engines overhead can still be heard, and flickers of neon light from outside sneak through the one window's uninspired blinds.
The office itself is threadbare but tidy, as though assembled by someone both frugal and relentlessly practical. The floor's easy-clean industrial carpet is a pusillanimous shade of brown, and the visitor chair opposite the desk is serviceable but a bit squeaky. The desk itself is massive but spartan, a place for everything and everything in its place, with few personal artifacts or knick-knacks in evidence.
There is one small holo-frame on the desk, but the images of smiling humans within might be the ones that came with the frame. A fake plant stands faithful watch in one corner, and though there's nothing actually wrong with the environment here, it doesn't seem like a cozy place to linger long.
"Time of day?" Valko is sitting opposite Jonn, across the desk from him, but might have left the office door ajar?! He looks like he's already sure he doesn't know the answer, but he looks upward for a moment as he sifts through his faulty meatball memory, and then shakes his head. "I don't know. Daytime? I don't think I can pin it down any more than that. I think it was day."
"That's fine. Childhood memories are difficult for organics to remember," Jonn says, typing some more things on the small keyboard. "Daytime, in the starport district, shortly before or after a shuttle ride," he begins, hands moving to fetch a pack of candy from his desk drawer. Space Twizzlers! The detective slides one of the cherry-flavored licorice ropes from its packing and offers them across the desk to Valko. Chewing on his sweet, he says, "If I can get your internment date from the orphanage, I can use that as a starting point for my search. Considering a window of one week, I'll get in touch with my connections at Lord Eebua's Starport, dig through some passenger logs, and watch the security feeds from that seven day window, using all of the other things you've told me to narrow down when and where I'll need to look."
An orange shadow passes by the crack in that door, but quick as it's noticed, it's gone. Soon to follow is the faint *bloop* of datapad noises. Whoever's out there must be really busy and therefore super important, yup. Wielding the modern tech...like a boss.
"Organic memories vary widely by species, but I'm afraid mine are not necessarily any better than human," Val observes, eyeing JOnn curiously, though there's no sense that he suspects he's talking to something other than a human. "Memory in humanoid species is often only as good as the last time you remembered it. A copy of a copy of a copy. I don't know, it's probably pointless. If you can't find anything, it's alright, it could be that there's just nothing to find. I can send you the documents I have from the orphanage, though." Another orange shadow catches his eye, a vaguely familiar one, and Val peers toward the door, guessing, "...Rato?"
"There's no sense in giving up hope, now, Mr. Valko. I'm sure there's a burning inside of you that needs to know what's out there. You wouldn't be talking to me, if there wasn't. And, yes; anything else that you can provide would be very useful." He twists his mouth into an attempt at a smile and would very much be patting Valko on the arm right now if he weren't so far away, as he says, "Don't worry, Mr. Valko. If there's anything out there to find, I'll find it."
Across the datapad screen, a vomitous, 4D rendering of color and noise dances around to the tune of some obnoxious, childlike song. The joyless expression Rheisa wears is perhaps her only salvation here, because she's the one watching it. On purpose. Her lips mumble along with the vocabulary being demonstrated by three different aliens with three equally 'wrong' accents.
Then the noises stop.
"....no," meekly answers the orange shadow, like that's a let down, somehow. Sorry, Val.
"Well," Val replies, uncertainly. "I don't know about.. burning... it's really more of like a, um, more like a smolder? You need something up-front, right? I'll transfer over the orphanage stuff, but, I mean -- I have to pay you?" He gets up at the sounds and then the 'no' from the lobby, poking his head out the door to discover, "Rheisa!" Valko seems surprised but not displeased. "What are you doing here? Are you here to see Mr. Hardy?"
"We'll worry about payment if I manage to dig something up for you. Nothing before," Jonn says, nipping that in the bud real quick. He looks to the door with brows raised, awaiting to see if whoever's outside is going to make an entrance or not.
"I did not mean to see," (hear?) Rheisa keeps her eyes contritely down at the screen in her lap. What a strange, bug-eyed creature of disproportionate everything to be used as an educational tool for the younglings of this galaxy. She finds herself shameful-essly wondering what such a thing tastes like. Nervous? Just think about food. Works for her!
"I--" she casts a 'do i have to' look to the exit and the bodies she knows are somewhere on the other side. "--am supposed to come here. Make a bad word against Mister Voss. To go on record?" Did she get that right? She's now looking at Valko, like he ought to know. Clumsily, she turns the datapad off, recovers from the almost-drop in the process, and tucks it into the back of her skirt's threaded waistband. Can't possibly be comfortable, but no pocket. Then comes the hard part. Standing.
For the first time in almost a year, Rheisa reaches for her old friend - a weathered walking stick (staff) - and uses it to help herself to her feet. Ow damn those feet.
"What happened to your foot?" Valko asks Rheisa instantly, snapping into medic-mode since that's a lot easier to process than the disorienting revisitation of his past. "You're here to make a complaint?" he echoes, watching her gait with a clinical eye as he holds the door open. "Mr. Hardy is an investigator, not law enforcement, but whether or not he can assist you would be for him to say... Wait, Voss, that drunk at the apartments? What'd he do?"
"And who is this Mr. Voss?" Jonn asks of the newly-arrived Togruta. A drunk, apparently, according to Valko. He looks between the two aliens with concern and intrigue.
"Old man with sickness of his..montrra." Rheisa goes through the lip pucker 'tch' of spitting on the ground, cept without the actual spit. She's learning. Her gait is the same as always in the right leg, damaged muscles/knee wreaking the same minor havoc as usual. The left is also a little tenderly stepped, on account of her foot, the bareness of which poorly masking the bandage slapped o'er its bottom. "Glass," she offers Valko a one-word explanation, then marches with what dignity remains into Hardy's office. She cuts to the chase. "Mr Voss say-says-many bad things. About me. About the taxis. About the price of lum...lots things. But now he think I eat his...pet? His pet. I did not." For emphasis, she cuts Valko a meaningful /i swear/ look sideways. "For law, is he-his. His word to be against miiiine. So I think, maybe if I find Scootles - or what happen to it - then he will shut up." Yup. She said it, the big old 's-u'! Probably didn't learn that from tauntauntubbies tho.
"You want Mr. Hardy to find Scootles?" Valko asks, surprised. "Well, I mean... if he did. That'd clear up the Togruta-eating-pets rumors, wouldn't it?" He sits on the floor and pulls a medical satchel he carries a little closer, clearly planning to take the glass out of Rheisa's foot right here and now. "Hold still and let me look at this glass while you talk to the detective." It's Togruta client day. Aren't they precious.
Jonn Hardy is clearly taken aback by the use of such foul language, but he leans forward and says, "I see. So, you want me to find the pet in question. Scootles. What kind of creature is Scootles?" Jonn asks, brows raised to the Togruta woman.
To this, Rheisa shrugs. "Scootles is Scootles." Her foot slides the few inches away that it can from Val's reach until it butts up against her other ankle. "I pull it out behind Boba's smoke stop," she informs flatly. (some shitty convenience store on Lehtera??) "Stuck hard, but I get it." Then back to Hardy. "Is papers everywhere Voss put that show Scootles. 'Dok'rrrik, I think. People say you are good at finding things, so does no harm to ask, yes?" Which reminds her....
"What did you lose?" She squints down the length of her nose to the poor, floored doctor.
Valko has gloves on within 30 seconds of deciding he's gonna do this, and he makes an effort to seize Rheisa's foot, clearly hoping to have this disinfected before she can figure out Scootles is a Dokrik. He may have his work cut out for him if said foot is trying to hide against the other foot. A glance flickers up briefly at Rheisa's question, then back to the task at hand (foot). "My parents."
"Very well," Jonn offers to Rheisa. "I'll offer you the same deal that I'm offering Mr. Valko here. No payment up front, and we'll discuss whatever credits or favors will be exchanged when or if the time comes that I manage to find your individual quarries. Deal?" Jonn stands up from behind his desk and moves over to his coat rack. He pulls his jacket down and swings it around, slipping his arms into it. "I suppose I should get started, then. Not a moment to lose." With that, the weird detective slips past the two of them and heads out of the door, leaving them in his office.
That foot's a slippery one, doc!
"D..." Rheisa recoils inwardly just a bit, away from this potentially emotional can'o'worms she's just strewn about the floor. While she's busy staring at Val and his attempts at ped-wrangling, feeling guilt for having asked, the sneaky sleuth gets away! wAIT. Did he just leave them here? Is he coming back? Confused Rheisa's confused and turns herself around to stare after the last flap of the detective's jacket to go out the door. "Ko..." then it dawns on her. She finally quits fidgeting and after a great deal of rustling against the desk, slumps down onto her backside to join Valko on the floor. "This is why your tongue is confused, when it speaks?"
"Let me look at your foot, you require medical attention," Val complains at Rheisa, now that both have ended up on the floor like the uncivilized Togruta children they are. "If you don't cooperate, I'm just going to pick you up and carry you to Wayside, where I can attend to this more properly." COME HERE FOOT. THERE IS GLASS IN U. He does pause at her question, before asking, "What do you mean, my tongue is confused?"
"Foot is OK. It stop bleeding before the lazy sun come up." The sole twitches once, twice while he works to remove the glorified bandaid, then it jerks back, curling defensively toward her butt. Hide, foot, hide! "I am more heavy than I look," Rheisa adds for good measure, but with less vehemence. "I mean: the way you speak. It sound like many voices, hiding inside of one. Or inside of what should be," she demonstrates as she talks, doing her best imitation of his quirky accent, baritone and all. Not too shabby, that vocal range of mimicry.
"What have you -- oh, Rheisa," Val plucks off her 'bandage,' and apparently what he sees there does not please his medical mind. "We're going next door," the larger Togruta decides. He takes a moment to pack up his satchel again, eyeing her as she mimics his Corellian accent, then seizes the opportunity of distraction and lurches forward, tacklegrabscoop. He is surprisingly competent at this, for a guy Rato refers to as Softbitch, and gets back to his feet, Rheisa in a fireman's carry, her stick thoughtfully carried along as well. "Right," he says cheerfully, "Off we go to Wayside, then. Where I will tend your injury... and explain why my tongue is confused, if you really want to know."
Rheisa's mimicry-mockery-ends abruptly in a startled squawk when there's suddenly many, many spare kilos of 'gruta on her person. The struggle, squirmy and furious though it may be, is short-lived and before her brain can fully catch up with the /why/, she finds herself inverted. In this way, maybe Val's not such a shitty hunter as she assumed him to be. Also....pretty nice view of his ass, from back here.
Whatever the reason, the domesticated feral quits fighting the thing that's already happening and just gets bounced along with the flow. *jangle*jangle*clack* go all her beads. "...ghem." Like she's still got a choice.
Valko carries his bundle of patient into the (fortunately empty) lobby like it ain't no thang, managing to surprise Nima Kaleema the receptionist into a startled expression and no words. "Laceration!" he says simply, and then marches on into the treatment area. There, Rheisa finally gets set down on an exam bed, right side up, and he doesn't appear to have found it any particular exertion to tote her about. Gathering supplies to clean and treat her foot, he makes good on his promise to answer her question. "I was found wandering around Coronet City on Corellia alone, when I was around Umak's age. I don't know why, and neither does anyone else. I was taken to an orphanage eventually, it's... a place for children who have no one. No family, no friends, it's just... a lot of children with nowhere else to go. No one claimed me so I lived there for a while, and eventually a human couple adopted me."
"IS FINE," Rheisa's eyeballs roll aside far as they can to meet the brief blur of stunned Niima with a knowing smile. Devious, even. Yeah, she knows how this looks.
Once in the healing nest, Rheisa's foot is far more cooperative, because now this is his domain and one must abide by the house rules. "Nah Khos, nah meht," she murmurs and watches his hands make their selections. "tohg'ha, u tungu, unt nah d'behm oneh grre..." She lays a hand over her belly like there's a dull pain inside. "Grre wah. Grre yihl, det tungu. Yihl ke yeh." Her softspoken compassion is /kept/ softspoken, like any of the nonexistant other 'gruta-speakers are gonna be listening in. "So...maybe you have two fathers and two mothers, now. What would you do, if Mr Hardy say to you that he has found the first?"
-(OOC)- Rheisa Dirleel is totally missing some key words, so....a child walking alone among many...much fear, much sadness, for that child. I am sorry, for you. (I cry for you, I lament with you...whatever)
Valko pauses a moment, eyes on a tray of tools. "Nah Khos, nah meht," he agrees, and then goes back to work, and Basic. "Alien children don't usually get adopted, so I suppose I was lucky. My older sister is Nautolan, they adopted her too, we're... I don't know. A strange family I suppose. They made sure I didn't forget Togruta and somehow the barefoot thing stuck, but the rest, I don't know. Why would I?" A longer pause follows, for her question; working on the foot makes a good excuse not to meet her gaze. "Either they're dead, or they didn't want me. I don't particularly expect a reunion."
"Nah ghu," Rheisa admonishes gently on the inward hiss of 'ow' breath. She's making a solid effort to keep that limb as still as stone, but it's behaving a little more like grass. Rustle here, sway that way, however the waves of pain go blowing through. It's just a /little/ inflamed in there. Maybe a touch purulent! Ugh. Evidently the wine on that shattered bottle hadn't sterilized it. "Sometimes peoples are only lost."
AHA. PURULENCE. Valko knew it, knew he was right to get this looked at, kneeeew itttttt, thanks un-traditional years of higher education! He's made short work of the injury, though, and it isn't long before he pronounces, "Good as new," and hands her her walking stick back. Foot's a little sore. Good sore, though. "Maybe they're only lost," he says quietly, "But I don't think this is likely to be a story with a happy ending, and I don't know why I'm looking. I never have before. And I don't know what I'd do if I did find them alive, other than... disappoint them, probably?" Sort of a joke, but mostly not, and Val seems like he's kinda ready to run from this whole conversation. "I'd better get back to work. Don't step on anything pointy," he advises, and then flees, away from Togruta living, dead, near, far, and back into the safety of the harsh medical world that's nothing like Shili or Kiros.
"Because you cannot forget that which is within you," Rheisa smiles weakly, watching big, strong Valko attempt to escape the discomforts of the heart and soul. She shakes her head with a little sigh, gives the stick a squeeze, and eases into a dismount. "The happiness of any story is within the power of its teller." Spoken to self, Rheisa keeps it that way, as she's not quite sure from what depth of her brain that surfaced from. Her voice, but Y'gritii's words. And so her more dignified, less comfortable exit of the clinic begins in stark contrast to tonight's entrance. What'll it be next time, doc? Stay tuned....
