Log:Law Man or LawYer?
Law Man or LawYer?
OOC Date: May 3, 2017
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Jonas Tagg, Valko Tosha, Eevy Kal, Rheisa Dirleel
Valko's accent doesn't sound particularly Togruta, itself; he sounds upper-crust Corellian. If you closed your eyes and heard him speak, anyone would guess human. "I don't know what it was," he replies to Jonas. "I don't even know for sure that anyone's pets really are disappearing. All I know is that it wasn't /me/. Why on earth would I eat someone's pet? I went to medical school," he insists he's civilized. "It probably wasn't Rheisa Dirleel, either." Rato gets no guarantee.
Eevy gets a nod from Jonas, the man offering a grin before he says, "Yes, this moon is far different than what I am used to on Coruscant, but then again you will never catch me saying that Coruscant is less of a treacherous atmosphere. Nothing is as it seems on that planet." Valko speaks and Jonas' gaze centers on the Togruta, considering him for a moment. He finally offers a nod before saying, "Well if you hear of anything more concrete, do let me know. That is one of the things on my list to address with the building owner tomorrow. I would like to have my information correct."
Speak of the hornhead...she might appear? Not in the most flattering fashion, perhaps.
"Te'aan nah ghu, aga khos'a!" A voice that could not be more different from Valko's silly human accent yells in rebuttal over her shoulder as the Togruta accused exits Noddrek's. A sideways exit, because she's so expertly dodging a hurled wine bottle that it /might/ seem pre-emptive. They've done this dance before. Of course now there's shattered glass around the street and her bare feet face a greater challenge in dodging that.
Eevy listens to Valko, looking more and more curious about this pet business, but she doesn't seem to think he knows anything else about it either, because she knows him well enough to figure out that much for herself. "It's different from what I grew up with too," she replies to Jonas, but then there is breaking glass and the arrival of another Togruta. "I'm going back to the clinic," she informs them all. "If you have any other questions, you can find me there. Not that I know anything, but," she makes a vague gesture.
Valko's accent isn't silly Rheisa! It's educated, okay! EDUCATED. "I'll let you know," he offers to Jonas. "I don't think I'm likely to ever find out what the problem was, though. I'm a doctor, not a detective." Dammit Jim. Eevy goes back toward home, and he seems inclined to follow her; he does have blood all over him, and all. "Wayside medical clinic," he reminds Jonas, with a smile, "If you need us, we are there. Ghe vhee tah Rheisa!" he adds a Togruta hi/bye to the diminutive female, and then he's off.
"I ssseen the way ye look at'em," Old man Voss growls through some bent words and shuffle-marches with surprising coordination as far as the aapartment building doors, one bony finger leveled shakily at a slowly retreating Rheisa. "I seen the blood on yer bag! The way you'n all yer kind skulk around....jus waitin fer oppertun'ty. Well, I gots news fer ya, wermo...." he squintface/grimaces through a stifled burp, then leans against the doorway. "Scootles weren't some RAT! Scootles was a slice o'paradise and love, in this wretched life." Oh dear God. Is he going to cry?
Jonas nods to the doctors as they each head on their way, making promises to look them up at their clinic to inquire about jobs for his clients. As Rheisa and her... friend, make their interest, that draws the gaze of the human and he steps forward quickly, heading to mediate. "Excuse me, sir. Is there something that I can help you with?" he calls as he heads to get between the pair.
"Harrr..." Mister Voss chokes out a mirthless laugh at Rheisa's expense as Jonas moves to intervene. His eyes scan once over the man's fancy suit and he leaps to a conclusion. "See? Guess th'stiff collars at CDF took me at my word. I told you I'd be sendin' the law after you..." His jeer shifts over to Jonas and gives the man a stout bob of his head. "She's th'one, I know't true...killed a man once in these halls, so t'ain't much more heartless a deed to do in old Scootles..."
Rheisa just sort of freezes in place in response to Voss' accusation, and sends a nervous flit of her eyes over Jonas' form. Shaved head, nice clothes, strong jaw -- he bears uncanny similarity to ....surely not. Panic siezes her chest and she shakes her head once. "Your words are poison," she hisses at the old man with a spread of fangs, probably not helping her case.
"'e barely made it out the building, arrow in his belly. Whoo 'else you think done it?"
Jonas shakes his head even as Voss starts to identify him as one of the CDF. "No, no. I am not with the CDF, sir. My name is Jonas Tragg, I am the head of Bright Horizons. My office has been set up in this neighborhood to assist those in need of legal assistance and representation." His eyes then turn on Rheisa as she looks him over, trying to gauge her reaction to him.
Legal. The Togruta's piebald throat bobs with a swallow. Legal is opposite of illegal, which implies law enforcement. There probably are laws somewhere writ against killing thy neighbor, but so too are there probably laws 'gainst blasting a resident's door open in search of nonexistant, stolen monies and threatening violence all in the name of misunderstanding. That time, she came out on top, just a few burns, but other 'misunderstandings' were not so fortunate. Like now. She doesn't bolt yet, but every cell in her body seems to be tensed to the point of tremor.
"Wha?" Mister Voss says much too loudly, like he hadn't heard Jonas properly. "You ain't secur'ty fer these parts? Jus some money-grubbin lawyah? Well..." Voss narrows his eyes. "I already done posted all I can afford on th'reward letter 'round for Scootles, I did. 'ow can ye 'spect a man to pay more'n that fer justice to be done? Look at 'er!" He points again. "Same nasty bag she got there. I'd have taken it from her t'find Scootle's hair inside, but 'fraid she'd have done me in with that venom o'hers. Bets she bites, that one. Dun let the fancy ads fer the 'Muuuuuse'," he mockfully waggles his fingers "fool ya. She ain't so tame n'civilized as the rest of us."
Rheisa subtly tightens her grip over the satchel in question, hugging it against her side. "Is rats." She's lost this argument before, too.
Jonas' eyes continue to look Rheisa over for a moment before he says, "She seems tame enough to me, sir. And no, I am not looking for pay from you, I was just offering my assistance." He points toward the apartment building the two had just departed and says, "I have been fielding complaints all morning from your neighbors at the state of that building, and am going to speak with the owner tomorrow to see that they are fixed or else the owner prosecuted for failing to meet building codes." He looks toward Rheisa and says, "I am Jonas. I take it you live here too?"
"....Some time," Rheisa answers hesitantly and flicks a distrusting glance Voss' way. "Was Qo and Veela's place. I live with them for many months, keep their little ones...keep safe." And sometimes that necessitates murder, on Lehtera street. Allegedly. "They move out. Better place." Through the guttural accent, a guarded tone still reads loud and clear. Or maybe it's in the way her feet start to iiiinch away, one stealthy slide of inch at a time.
To this proclamation, Mr. Voss appears mildly stunned. Then confused. "Come t'think of it, I ain't ever /met/ th'owner. Jus pay my portion like all the rest t'the droid. Noddrek's place been this way fer long as I can 'member. S'affordable, this way. Need hot water? Boil it on th'stove, I say." Nevermind the cat-sized duracrete rats that chew the walls. "Them rats can be a mite trouble, I s'pose." Brow furrowing, the old man looks conflicted now. What side of the picket line ought he take here? In favor of progress and risk being made to pay real rent....or against infringement of the fancy folk! "Can't imagine most my 'neighbors' got things t'complain 'bout, really. You know what goes on behind closed doors in 'ere, do ya? Eh? Well let me tell you...the people'n scum that live in there are right content to not have the law trespass!"
"Tell that to the poor Rodian woman who is struggling to keep herself and her four children fed because the locking mechanisms don't work on the door and someone keeps coming in while she is gone and stealing her food. Not to mention the rats," Jonas says without hesitation in reply to Voss' argument. His eyes return toward Rheisa however, his eyes glancing from hers pointedly toward her feet as she begins to slide away. "Miss, are you afraid of me?" he asks gently.
Poor Mister Voss just can't be contained for any amount of reason. "'Course she is! Prolly the one stealin' all the food. Jus like she fancies the taste of Dokrik. Thems is scavengers by day, predators by night. Where's the 'legal representat-i-o-n' to guard 'gainst /that/?" Sniff. Maybe he's most sad that he hasn't got another projectile of convenience on hand to lob at the alien. All for the love of Scootles.
A flash of streetlight off bald head, a gleam of pearly white smile...and the flat of the blade that lifts to stroke her cheek. It happens, mistaken identity. Sometimes humans look alike, given enough closeness in features and fogginess of memory. Rheisa twitches her head into an ambiguous response. "No," she lies toughly, except the posturing of her headtails tells a different story, contracting against her frame rather than boldly flexing out. It's irrational yes, but the voices in her primal bit of brain finally convince the rest of her to act. Because it's getting heavy and she's about to need all the speed she can muster, the gruta inverts her satchel, dumps two very dead 'crete rats onto the street, then pivots around to flee. Her first step finds a sliver of the forgotten glass. Naturally.
