Log:Poncho and Dopey
Poncho and Dopey
OOC Date: January 8, 2024
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Rieve Selki, Ezlo Rafe
(This leads to: http://www.swaoa-mush.com/wiki/Log:Rebellion:_Iridonia:_You!_Freight_right_there!)
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It is hot and noisy and a scant good few feet away, also rather bloody. The noise is loud and thunderous at worst, and reverberating throughout the hot and packed establishment that spans several levels. It is certainly too noisy for listening devices and other sundry things that might derail first time meetings. The note regarding some measure of employment had simply said 'Blue Poncho' and through the press of people here gambling and smoking and fighting, it might have taken a while to find such a being wearing such a poncho, down in the depths where the bloodsports occur. But find it, Ezlo would. The lightly armoured being was entirely obscured by that armour, helmet ensured his features were hidden, and a rather bulky looking blaster slung against his side ensured that he certainly fit in with the surroundings. The armour was dirtied and dinged, the poncho however was rich and expensive, and bright blue in colour. Settled there, a bottle of Corellian ale within reach, and two glasses, one of which was full.
It's not always fun being the first Ardennian that people have seen. Specifically, it's not fun being the first Ardennian that DRUNK people have seen, which is happening quite a lot today to one Ezlo Rafe, Esquire. 'Esquire' means something different entirely on Ardennia.
Wading through the throng of people, where many different species are already represented, the blue-haired, blue-skinned little space monkey still gets a little more attention than he'd like. After all, he wore his stealth beanie today. It seems that many of the drunks either want to fight him, pick him up, or ask what he needs so many hands for. The answer is usually some variation on "For your mother, man..."
It's Ezlo's favorite Human Joke.
Eventually, after circling the place several times and accidentally chatting up a Hutt with a really big blue ascot, the fearsome bounty hunter finally acquires his target. Clambering up onto a nearby stool, upon which the short alien stands with his weird handfeet, he waves two of his actual hands. Shouting just enough to be heard over the throng, he announces his present.
"Hey man... are you sure that's really a poncho? Looks kind like... a drape, man..."
The helmeted head tilts to the side, and though one cannot see any facial features nor any hint of emotion, there's a faint shift as Rieve leans forward and a twitch of his lean frame that speaks of good humour. Indeed the poncho is tugged at and briefly glanced at, or at least the impression of him doing so is offered. "<<It is a poncho. I assume that you are the one I've been waiting for?>>" The voice is modulated, robotic even as the helmet warbles that voice to make it rather indistinguishable.
"<<Ale?>>" The question asked, and yet even so the empty glass is filled regardless of the actual answer. Once that simple act of welcome is offered, the armoured being leans back once more and seems to pause, though in all likelihood he's simply regarding the being before it. "<<Come and settle yourself. Ignore the blood stains a few feet away... I could have picked somewhere quieter, but that might not have been quite so secure, so my apologies for the noise.>>" The voice stutters faintly as the words spill from that helmet. "<<If you're here, then I can likely trust you... goes without saying, breaking trust either way does us no favours yes?>>"
"Ooh ale."
Lifting the glass, Ezlo takes a sip before he answers the question. This way, even if he's not the one that Blue Poncho was waiting for, there's no take backsies. Sure, Rieve might not really owe him a glass of ale, but the Galaxy sure does. He seems pleased by the taste, smacking his lips as he evaluates whatever it is that people evaluate when they're trying to give scores to alcoholic beverages.
Dropping down with the sort of nimbleness one might expect from a creature that looks the way that he does, Ezlo does exactly as is suggested, joining his apparent host. His definition of 'getting comfortable' is different from most people's, as he prefers to crouch on his seat in a sort of uncomfortable-looking squatting position. He seems to like it though.
"Yeah, uh... you know... it's like my business card says... uh... 'You tried the best, now try Ezlo.' It's like... trust is just... it's real important. I dig it... but uh... shiz... man... I forgot to bring one of my business cards."
"<<Probably best to avoid any... mention?>>" Rieve offers as he reaches up and gives his helm a faint twist, a shunt, a light wiggle as some earlier damage seems to have buckled a latch or two, and then finally, the helm is removed to reveal that blue is indeed a popular colour. Bright blue hair just messily tumbling free and pale features, youthful and certainly blessed with those annoyingly perfect Hapan genetics. A gap-toothed grin is offered. "Well I for one have a love for the uh... how you say?" His voice is delightfully accented, flowing and lilting, his stumble over the basic common followed with a rolling wave of his hand as if trying to reel the right words from his memory. "... dramatic and for giving people a chance, how are you set for armour and uh weapons?"
An idle question that probably isn't out of place in any seedy locale. "Frankly we'll be storming a freighter in a very inhospitable city, and while the freighters eventual end is not for you to know, you'll get your cut if all goes well. What do you bring to the table, please, drink, be at ease oui?" Rieve sets his helm aside, sweeps a hand through his mess of blue hair and leans back against the grimy wall behind him.
Casually sipping his ale at a respectable blue collar pace, Ezlo looks sidelong as his potential employer sees fit to reveal his secret identity! But unlike the twist in one of Ezlo's favorite holovids, it turns out Ezlo doesn't recognize this guy. Turns out, holovids aren't necessarily a good standard by which to judge reality, or probabilities. Still, there's something about the man that seems to cause Ezlo to do a double take, with the slightest of looks of confusion. Ultimately though, he seems to put aside any notions of familiarity, giving a shy gap-toothed, lopsided grin. Albeit one that's set within the folds of a fleshy, rounded muzzle, and with a set of teeth significantly sharper than the Hapan's.
"Sounds real good, man. You know, being such a fearsome bounty hunter... it's like... shiz... not scared of nothing. Well, almost nothing. I mean... everybody's scared of something, right? But my uncle always said.... uh.... just gotta do it, you know? Anyway, that's my philosophy."
He's kind of staring off into the distance at this point, vaguely registering that the question that was asked isn't the same as the one that he answered. So he tries again.
"But like... I didn't bring nothing to the table. I figured... being as how it's like a job interview, you know... usually I don't gotta bring my own snacks. But uh... I can order some though, if it's a deal breaker. Just seems kinda cheap, is all."
Rieve grins oh so brightly. "Oh I'll ensure snacks are provided." The smile widens as he tilts his head and ponders a slightly different approach, easily settled upon as he reaches forward to claim his own drink and take a sip. "Your skills, there might be some need to deal with certain sorts... guards." The final word offered a touch bluntly and yet dismissed with a most casual wave of his free hand. "I assume you have a good deal of weapons training, given your line of work... various methods in putting down resistance, and what about armour? I only ask given I would rather not see you battered and burned... goes without saying, we're not exactly operating on the right side of Iridonia's laws."
Rieve grins again, shrugs lightly and takes another sip of his ale. "You see someone has something another party needs and we are simply going to be righting that unfortunate wrong... quickly, efficiently, and with as little bloodshed as possible, but things often go wrong in the heat of the moment."
"No doubt. No doubt."
Mulling over the job proposal probably shouldn't take quite so long, but it seems that Ezlo needs a little bit of extra time to collate. Perhaps that's to be expected. After all, his eyes are perpetually sleepy, half-lidded almost to the point of being slits. But what he lacks in a quick disposition, a fearsome physique, or the faintest appearance of competence, he more than makes up for in arms. Long, slender, easily-breakable arms.
"Definitely you came to the right guy, I gotta say. Out here... uh... nobody better, er... you won't find nobody better. At least not cheaper, that's for sure."
He finishes off his glass, wiping his muzzle on the back of his blue-ish, wrinkled hand and then letting out a healthy "BRAAAAAP!"
It's hard to hear in here anyways.
"Tell you what though, I was just talking about this the other day with my boy Narguloosh... it's like... and I guess it's 'cause nobody really buy's 'em. But either way... shiz... have you ever tried FINDING gear in Ardennian sizes? Don't get me started... I went to the surplus store the other day to get something, and dude tried to get me to buy a lady's size. I was like... I'm a MAN, dude. Give me a small, multi-armed man's size dude."
"You know?"
"I can't say that I have, though... a few plates here, a few straps there... a good armoursmith or tailor should have no trouble dealing with your form, there are countless sorts with many limbs and appendages, each far more useful than the two I merely wield." Rieve offers as he head-tilts and silently appraises the belch that erupts forth, only to be lost within the confines of this multi-levelled hell hole. A burp wasted! Why beyond these confines it would have been loud and proud.
"You will certainly require something, I do not wish to be responsible for dragging you aboard the freighter, I will if I have to, I shan't leave a soul behind... but I'd rather you made it under your own steam."
"That said, I can provide weapons if needed. I have a Prax Arms rifle that I recently came into owning..." Rieve's faint 'ahem' that follows might well speak volumes as to how he came into owning it. "If that's a weapon you're familiar with, you'd be welcome to it. Bulky of course... but you seem a strong sort oui?" The 'ahem' shifts to a grin. "Or are you a pistolier of renown? Either way, what matters most is a swift mind... and given your line of work. I think we're safe there."
"Oh hell yeah."
Ezlo's tone is fairly nonchalant, as if he were discussing a potential contract for putting in a retaining wall behind an old shed. This might have extremely worrying implications for the state of his allegedly swift mind. But it also might give just enough of a false impression of competence to enable him to once more fail upwardly on his long, nearly forty year quest to fake it until he makes it. It'll happen one day. Today might be the day.
"I can do 'em all, tell you what. Any kind of blaster, really. Pistols... uh... the long ones... you know... uh... the fast-shooting ones... shiz if it blasts, uh... I can use it for blasting."
He nods confidently as he spouts borderline gobbledygook.
"'Cause it's like you said. A swift mind is good and all, but I feel like so many people forget you've also gotta have a swift heart, you know? Sometimes the best weapon really is the power of love, but if that doesn't work... shiz... the price on grenades has really been coming down lately. Especially here on Nar Shadda. Other day I was at the surplus store and I was like... 'MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!' Kids could by that shiz with their allowance money. Which, I'm opposed to..."
"So uh... do I got the job?"
Rieve listens, a grin etched upon his pale features as he rides the wave of the tale regarding grenades and can't help but laugh lightly. "On this planet? I wouldn't be surprised to learn that half the waifs and urchins are packing explosive ordnance." That said, Rieve takes the bottle of remaining beer and lifts it to his lips, chugging away at the contents with ease. Sure its common! But somehow the end flourish makes it just slightly less so. There's no belch either, what a wasted opportunity! "I think you have the job. Make your way to Iridonia before the appointed time and we'll meet up outside the freight yard... and we'll go from there oui?" That bright gap-toothed grin is offered once more, at least until Rieve has grasped his helm and rammed it back into place, obscuring his features just so. Just another armoured sort amidst a ton of armoured sorts now. The only blue? That finely woven poncho. "<<I'll see you there.>>"
"Good deal. Good deal. Very cool. Very tight."
Watching through perpetually sleepy, half-lidded eyes, the strange blue space monkey seems fairly charmed by this suave stranger, entering into the spirit of goodnatured panache with the eagerness of a born swashbuckler. Sure, he seems a little slow, and his stories are a bit too circular to be of any use for either instruction or entertainment, but at the very least he seems perfectly game for an adventure. Which is not the most common of commodities, even here on the Smuggler's Moon.
"I'll see you there, for sure. No doubt. Meanwhile, I'll be like... practicing my shooting and fighting and whatnot. It's like, in the bounty hunter code to be doing that kind of thing... real regular."
Nodding solemnly, but with a slight lopsided grin on his muzzle, the Ardennian hops down, landing on completely uncovered handfeet, and quickly disappearing into the throng of species much taller than him. A throng of people who are better fighters than him.
But a throng, nonetheless, consisting of nobody cheaper.
