Log:Merc for Money 3: Watching the Bay
Merc for Money 3: Watching the Bay
OOC Date: November 3 2022
Location: Rishi
Participants: Pilha Aino, Hahtavi Kora, Frexl, Shoretroopers
"Ah... now this, this right here... this is the life. It's about time things started going Frexl's way, and let me just say that you're doing a great job back there. Don't think I didn't notice."
Sprawled out on a towel, which itself is sprawled out on a bench, which is set in the middle of some sand, a scaly, partially-dressed Dug is getting the kinks worked out of his smaller set of legs by a scaly, partially-dressed Gungan.
Perched in front of the Dug, a half-empty pitcher of some sort of fruity rum concoction is being gradually drained courtesy of the flexible tube attached to Frexl's mouth.
"Oh Mr. Frexl... yousa sayin' the nicest sayin's. Meesa can't wait to tell meesa pals all about yousa! Imagine, MEESA, runnin' into a FAMOUS MERCENARY!" The Gungan digs her scaly fingers into Frexl's spindly smaller legs, causing him to wince visibly before relaxing again. Apparently, she hit the spot.
"Sure thing, sweetheart. But, uh... easy with the nails, I got sensitive skin."
The beach is moderately busy, with most of the tourists enjoying themselves in a manner similar to our favorite FAMOUS MERCENARY. Most of them aren't getting a massage from a Gungan though. Their loss, really.
One of the groups seems to be made up entirely of models, a couple of bodyguards, and an extremely corpulent Zabrak. The open spice consumption by the Zabrak and his guests speaks volumes about his socio-economic status. That, and the bodyguards, and the models.
Further down the beach, a couple of Trandoshans are playing some sort of game that involves stabbing a knife repeatedly in the space between their fingers. Howls of laughter can be heard each time one of them misses and stabs himself in the hand.
And above all of it, keeping everyone safe... the lifeguard up in the Lifeguard's Chair. Not all heroes wear capes, and this one certainly doesn't. Probably wears shorts, most likely. Only, there seems to be a problem...
There's nobody up in the chair.
Hot weather calls for... ice-cream. Pilha Aino, dressed for the beach in shorts and a sleeveless top wanders along. As a nod to Rishi piracy, she's still got her blaster in her holster hanging from her belt. She mosies along, past the Trandoshans playing with knives, past the partying Zabrak, until she passes Frexl. She sits down on a rock by the boardwalk just along from where Frexl is getting his massage, waiting. The human looks around and glances at Frexl, trying to figure out if that's the Dug she's made an acquaintance with or not.
The Trandoshan version of cu'bikad of course snagged a passing Mandalorian's attention. That's just the sort of sport he can appreciate. Bucket on, the Mandalorian laughs when one of the Trandoshans stabs himself in a hand because that's just funny. The armored Kora doesn't seem the least bit concerned that the Trandoshans might take offense to his laughing at them.
After a moment the Mando wearing mostly black armor with a jetpack and rifles continues walking down the beach towards where Frexl and others are loitering. It is warm and sunny though, the surf rolling in delightfully and the water so inviting. The bounty hunter sees his target right ahead of him walking. The T-visor of his helmet follows Pilha's movement until she picks a place to sit. Hahtavi comes up to her and his helmet's vocoder clicks on, <<"I hear your bounty went up. Maybe I should collect it.">>
There is a pause to watch for her reaction before a gauntlet reaches up to remove his helmet. Hahtavi's mouth is curved into a smile ere he says low, "Su cuy'gar, cyar'ika."
Trandos gonna Trando, and these Trandos are no exception. Losing a finger is actually probably a lot of fun when you can always grow it back, but there's really only one way to ever find out for sure.
The large, presumably wealthy Zabrak is in the middle of telling one of his very hilarious stories, judging by how enthusiastically all of the models are laughing about it. But with the caked up powder on everyone's noses, the threshold for laughter is probably pretty low.
The story he's telling seems to be about a time he got a good deal on a ham. Hard to make all of it out though.
With his flexible tube still in his mouth, Frexl seems content to merely soak up some solar rays, until...
A shade falls over him.
Looking up through his bloodshot orange eyes, the Dug quickly locates the source of his unwanted shade. No, it's not a cloud.
"Hey! Tall, dark, and rusty! Why don't you move over to the WEST a bit, huh? Some of us is trying to darken our flesh meats!"
To a lot of people, a Mandalorian threatening to collect their bounty would be... intimidating, an invite to a fight, or at the very least CREEPY. Pilha tips her head to one side, studies the ice-cream she is holding (pale green and pink scoops), and then licks it. She doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. "What's double of nothing, Mando?" She asks Hahtavi then glances at him sideways. A slight smile curls her lips. "And hello to you to."
Hearing the Dug, Pilha narrows her eyes. She leans forwards, "Hey, don't I know you? Swoop race - didn't cross the finish line, yeah?" A timely intervention.
Helmet tucked under his arm, the Mando turns his head to look down at the voice that piped up at him. The Dug is eyed, then Hahtavi merely takes a step to one side so not to be blocking the sunlight falling on the Dug and his companion. "There are other ways to darken your flesh meat. You have chosen wisely." Amusement is in the human male's pale grey eyes as he briefly studies the Dug and the Gangan companion. They don't look too threatening off hand.
His attention returns to Pilha. The Kora settles himself to take a seat on the warm sand beside her and clips his bucket to hang off of his utility belt so it won't get sand into it - hopefully. It also frees up his gloved hands, one of which is missing a finger. Unlike Trandoshans, he apparently couldn't regenerate it.
A leisurely look over the beach ere his gaze comes back around to Pilha and he whom she is addressing. Her ice cream is noted. The lack of a life guard is not.
With an audible 'Hrrmph!' the Dug starts to settle back down on his towel, prepared to enjoy a bit more pampering. If only the Fates weren't conspiring against him this day...
One of the Gungan woman's hands moves away from Frexl's very small swim short area, and is instead used to lift one of her ears up, as if she were checking her hearing.
"WHAT!? Whassa thissun lady sayin' Frexie? Yousa been tellin' meesa yousa BIG RACE WINNER! Mooey ooey big moneys! Lotsa spice! Yousa been tellin' meesa FIBS!?"
She's starting to get really shrill, causing Frexl to put his larger foothands over his floppy batlike ears.
"Hey... take it easy there babe..." The panicked look on his face lasts only a few seconds, before it's replaced with a fairly convincing approximation of sadness.
"Look, it's like this... not all people in the Galaxy is as enlightened as you and me is. Lots of... uh... prejoonice... this lady here... probably got a prejoonice, thinks all Dugs look alike. It's sad, really."
His lower lip begins trembling most tremulously.
"No, no, I recognise you. It /was/ you," Pilha insists in her weird Nar Shaddaa/Corellian hybrid accent as she moves her foot so her sandal rests lightly against Hahtavi where he sits. "No idea why you're denyin' it," she comments then takes another lick of her ice-cream. "Some folks are weird, Haht," she comments to the Mandalorian.
Hahtavi chuckles and sits leaned back on his hands as he watches Pilha and the other two, still looking amused. "Especially swoop racers. I've sponsored a few. They were disappointments, alas. Flaked out and didn't even qualify for the major races. Not a sound investment." As for Dug's specifically, he offers no opinion.
Pilha causes him to smile. Maybe it's just because she's so relaxed, eating ice cream on a beach on Rishi. "Wierd at least keeps the galaxy interesting..." Hahtavi's gaze once more roams over the beach, those around them, then he shifts his position to sit up more upright. A small bottle of oil is removed from a utility pouch. Not the suntan type. Haht draws his wicked looking and well used combat knife and applies a little of the oil to it and uses a small cloth to start rubbing it in all over. He may not have a lot to say but he is listening and watchful.
"Okay, okay... see... this is how misunderstandings start..."
It's clear that Frexl's date and/or paid companion isn't really feeling this change in the narrative he's been selling her. Now it's her turn to let out an audible 'Hrrmph!', but more importantly, she's doing a way worse job getting the kinks out of Our Hero's delicate flesh meats!
As the large, obscenely wealthy Zabrak heads out into the water, most of his dates and/or paid companions stay right where they're at on the beach. Only the bodyguards seem to pay close attention to where he's headed.
Further down the beach, the Trandoshans have moved onto the 'eating raw meat out of a cooler' portion of their festivities. Better not look too closely at exactly which type of raw meat they're eating, there's always a good chance some of it might be from your species.
Just when it looks like Frexl's dug (heh) himself into too much of a hole to get out of, it gets even deeper. A couple of beefy lads wearing mixtures of beach shorts and repurposed Shoretrooper armor are running down the beach as fast as their bare feet will allow them. They don't look especially menacing, carrying nothing but life preservers and stun batons, but they look like they WISH they looked menacing.
"THERE HE IS!" Apparently they were looking for Frexl, judging by the beeline they're making for him.
"What do you have to say for yourself, Mister? ABANDONING YOUR POST?"
Frexl looks as confused as anyone else.
"Uh... hey guys... I was just on my lunch break."
Where trouble is, Pilha isn't. "Well," she announces as she watches the development of where the lifeguard was with amusement. "I have cargo to run," she tells Hahtavi and, as unhurriedly as she arrived, she gets up and ambles off
