Log:Rieveunion on Vandor
Lira sends Rieve a holo asking him to catch up at The Lodge in Fort Ypso, but bounty hunters catch up to her.
OOC Date: September 28, 2024
Location: The Lodge, Fort Ypso, Vandor
Participants: Lira'una, Rieve Selki, Bryett Cordair
Vandor is unforgiving.
Its jagged, snow-capped peaks pierce the clouds, and the wind roars through the valleys, carrying a chill that settles deep in the bones. Outside Fort Ypso, snow falls in thick, swirling drifts, blanketing the rugged landscape in a pristine white. The settlement clings to the edge of a cliff, an isolated outpost for drifters, smugglers, and those seeking refuge on the frontier.
The Lodge, a cantina at the heart of Fort Ypso, is a refuge of warmth against the relentless cold. As the door slides open, a rush of warm air escapes, mingling with the icy breeze outside. Inside, dim amber lighting casts a welcoming glow over a space that blends rustic charm with rugged practicality. Rough-hewn beams support the ceiling, draped with tapestries and old banners from distant worlds.
The bar, a polished slab of wood, is lined with an eclectic mix of patrons: weary pilots nursing drinks, gamblers engrossed in card games, and off-duty security personnel sharing tales of mishaps on the icy conveyex tracks. The scent of spiced stew and freshly baked bread fills the air, mingling with the tang of cheap Corellian whiskey and a faint metallic whiff of blaster oil. A small fire crackles in a stone hearth, its flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the room.
The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft strum of a bith's jizz instrument create a low hum of life, a comforting murmur that drowns out the howl of the wind outside. And perhaps chief among the racket is a small disturbance happening off to one side of the room.
It's not as if Lira'una's trying to hide. She's not sitting in some dark corner with her hood pulled up over her head to shield her identity from the many faces who have absolutely no idea who the teenage twi'lek girl is, anyway.
No. Lira'una is presently standing on top of a chair. Which has been placed on top of a table. She has one foot on the seat of the chair and one foot on the top of the back rest, and she's stretching up towards the rafters while a small group laughs.
"She'll never reach it!" "Fiftycredits!" "Make it a hundred and you're on!"
Someone slaps the table, and Lira's arms stop reaching to shoot out to the sides to steady herself.
"That's cheating!" one of the men roars. Another throws his head back in laughter.
Lira, meanwhile, seems none the worse for all of this going on. She has a big smile on her purple lips. She's wearing warmer clothes than she usually wears, but her black cloak has been tossed over the back of another chair nearby. So she's just in a cropped jacket that _still_ leaves her midriff bare, but at least her leggings seem thicker. A little.
Okay, she doesn't look that much warmer. Not without her cloak on.
Her belt is full of pockets, and she has a length of wood -- a collapsed San-Ni staff -- swinging from her belt and bopping against her thigh as she goes back to stretching.
"Somebody give her a boost!" someone else yells out.
"Don't you dare! You're all too drunk to stand up on your own, much less balance two of us! How did this droid even get UP here, anyway?!"
And there, with those words, the eye might be drawn to the sight of a tiny little droid. No bigger than about a hand (well, a grown-up hand, not one of Lira's hands), it shivers and peeks nervously out from around a bend towards Lira's outstretched fingers.
"Come on, little guy," she coaxes.
It is into this scene that Rieve himself steps, swathed in a thick fur coat that is weighed down with snow upon the shoulders, the slender Hapan pauses and daren't cross the threshold until he's shaken himself off like some lumbering hound at the entrance. Only then does he step inside and remove his left glove, allowing him to sweep his hand through his bright blue hair and sweep the heavy hood backwards.
The sight does indeed bring a wide grin to his lips, gap-toothed and merry as he witnesses midriff and mischief go hand in hand. "A boost would indeed be cheating!" That voice rings out, laden with that distinct Hapan lilt, words a flowing and a drifting, and certainly familiar and possibly even mistimed as he seeks to drag free his right glove and approach the table, though no effort is made to offer any assistance. That would indeed be cheating.
Instead a further grin is offered to the droid that lingers just out of reach, his gloves flopped upon the table by the chair which Lira uses to further boost her height. "I'd ask 'ow zis 'appened, but I think it is merely funnier to witness the resolution oui?" The Hapan flops into a chair at the very table that Lira is standing upon, lounging back within his chair to gaze upwards at both Lira and droid. "... it is true, it is more amusing from this angle!"
There's another wobble of the chair as soon as that Hapan lilt reaches Lira's ear-cones, and from her perch above the gathered onlookers, the lavender-skinned girl looks down at the new arrival, her arms once more outstretched to her sides for balance.
"You came!" she exclaims with child-like glee.
This is why, in general, children aren't to be left unsupervised in a room full of drunks. It's not that she's in any particular danger from anyone but herself, but there's apparently been no responsible adult in close enough proximity to put a stop to this nonsense.
Then again, Rieve doesn't seem to be putting a stop to it, either.
"What do you mean funnier?!" Lira asks indignantly, but the amused glint in her eye and the pleased tug of her lips told all the story that was needed.
She wasn't being baited by the crowd into this -- not entirely, anyway. She was enjoying the spectacle of it. A circus acrobat in her element. A sensual and smooth-talking courtesan? Not even a little. But a flamboyant performer in her own right who lacks any measure of subtlety or sophistication? Absolutely.
"Okay, little guy.. if you won't come to me, I'll come to you. HEADS UP!"
That last cry is for those gathered around, but she barely waits for it to register before she's leaping up, the force of it sending the chair skidding and collapsing on the table-top with a clatter, knocking a drink over onto the floor with a crash. Up above, meanwhile, the little twi'lek has barely managed to get a hold on the rafter with her fingertips, and she's using that grip to scrabble up, swinging herself up on top of the beam with the grace of someone who's trained for this sort of thing most of her life.
"A hundred credits!" one of those men from earlier yells, slamming the table again. "Pay up!"
"Two shakes!" Lira tells Rieve from the top of that beam, making her way with a surprising amount of ease towards the trembling droid. "Almost got him!"
"How ever did the little fellow get up there?" Rieve asks as he watches the acrobatic display of strength and agility, his hands clapping together in a joyous crack of palm against palm, and then some idle rubbing to seep some warmth back into his hands, for even though the gloves did their job, there was but a hint of a chill even despite the fur-lined mittens!
"I'm more impressed with BB's ability to get up there in all honesty..." Though even he can't leave Lira in the lurch, for he rises to his feet, shrugs off his thick fur coat to reveal the typical garb of a local trader. Leathers and furs, drab colours, yet warm and snug. Up he steps, first onto his own chair, and then onto the table to render assistance in getting the little droid down, arms outstretched to offer that help.
"Of course I came, you called... my heart... it would have been rude to not to!" Oh there's a hint of flamboyant theatrics as one hand is pressed to his chest, his head tilting to the side for dramatic effect, eyes closed as if the every idea was anathema! And then both hands are soon outstretched once more. "You could not have picked a finer lcoale either, I have a thing for the cold... nothing cosier than a roaring fire, a strong drink, and a burly local or two."
Oh, it's not BB that's up there. The droid in question is only a few inches tall and has a couple of legs. It's shivering, and it looks a bit like a.. pint-sized BD-droid.
"They won't tell me," Lira calls down. "And he's terrified. So I'm assuming someone threw him up here."
No one owns up to that, of course. In fact, now that the twi'lek both seems to have the situation in hand _and_ has help in the form of Rieve climbing up to that table, much of the excitement seems to be dissipating.
But it's the rest of Rieve's words that has Lira laughing softly. "I'm glad! I was worried. It's sort of.. out of the way." Waayyyy out of the way, by some standards, but for the Jedi and the New Rebellion? Maybe not so far as some of the rest of the traders in the galaxy.
A few linger, of course. At least one seems more interested in the droid than anything else. A few more are not-so-subtly checking out Rieve as he shrugs out of that fur coat.
"Come on.. it's okay. I promise," Lira coaxes, couching on the beam and holding her hands out.
A few more seconds of nervous deliberation pass before the droid finally trots out and jumps up into her hands. And maybe he's not as big as a BD-droid, but he's still more than a handful both in bulk and weight for Lira.
"Good job, little guy. Okay.. incoming," the twi'lek says, shifting so she's sitting on the edge of the beam -- as easily as one might perch on a tree branch -- and leaning down to hand him over to Rieve. "Thank you."
Rieve squints, his eye sight was never all that great in anything but bright sunlight! Yet he can see enough to grasp the groid and aid in delivering that little bundle of electronics and sentience to the table, giving it a warm little pat as he then rises once more to offer a hand to Lira. More so for the sake of those countless hours spent learning good manners and etiquette back when he held title and rank than any actual need on her part. "Out of the way is always interesting and there's always adventure oui?"
Only once Lira is down does Rieve dare to hop down himself and cast his gaze about the varied patrons. It isn't much of a hop either, the skip from table to chair is an act of three parts, a deft little clip and clop upon the table, a skippity skip to the chair, and a deft turn of feet and grace as he dips to the floor and offers a bow to those still watching.
Soon enough the flamboyant Hapan is seated once more and lazily drawing the discarded fur coat about his shoulders in a rather louche manner. Even when clad in local garb this drab, he still somehow manages to ensure fashion and poise comes first. "It is so good to see you, truly it is! Let me get us..." He never finishes that sentence as he gestures to the barkeep, and before long two very hot and caffeinated drinks would be steaming their way across. "And besides, Nar Shaddaa has a certain stink to it, and my nostrils are much too delicate to endure it for too long without some escape to an exotic clime such as this."
It's those little gestures that always made Lira blush -- the manners she was so unaccustomed to. She'd seen them in holovids. Read about them in holonovels. The noble lady escorted by the handsome gentleman. When she was a child, it wasn't anything Lira had ever expected to encounter in her own life, and even still it seems to come as a surprise to her.
Especially from someone like Rieve. There'd always been a sort of wide-eyed wonder where it came to Rieve. What must his life be like? Handsome, charming, rakish, gallivanting across the galaxy from opulent party to opulent party in his beautiful spaceship, entertaining and wooing in equal measure as he goes.
Some people romanticize the lives of the Jedi and their 'magic.' Lira has always romanticized Rieve's life. Not that she ever showed even a single hint of jealousy -- more like the wonder of a child being told an exciting bedtime story. She always wanted to hear more.
"Thanks," she chirps brightly, taking his hand and leaping down onto that table top with him. She lands lightly, her purple smile broad and cheerful.
"Ma' droid!" one of the men -- one of the big and burly types Rieve had mentioned earlier -- who had been watching exclaims, rushing forward to take the thing from Rieve. It beeps and boops happily, and the big man clutches it to him as he turns to shuffle back to his table without so much as a word.
"You're welcome," Lira mutters under her breath, but there's no heat to the words. Just amusement. She too steps off of the table and into the chair that has her cloak on the back of it, but she never touches the floor. Instead, she turns and drops straight down, legs criss-crossed in her usual style.
One of the others crowds closer now that Rieve is settled, but Lira looks up and makes a shoo'ing motion with her hand, like she's trying to get rid of a pest. And she is.
"No, no! He's mine right now. You can come back later," she grumps, brow furrowing and nose wrinkling. She does _not_ look intimidating, even if might be trying, but they listen, at least, and shuffle off as well.
"It is nice to travel. I was just on Lothal for... business." She's really bad at being subtle. "As you said, there's always something interesting to see out of the way. And I have plenty of reason to go out of the way, at this point. I met someone... an archaeologist."
Handsome, gallant, hasn't aged in the last 25 years... not a mark upon him! Aaaah the wonders of medical science and hours spent on various routines. The way that burly sort clutches the droid along with those happy beeps and boops, well Rieve grins that gap-toothed grin and offers a florish of a salute to the fellow and his clearly much loved droid. "Those who claim droids have no feeling? No life, no love in them? Just machines? They are fools one and all..." Rieves pauses and adopts a rather rakish smirk, brows cast at an angle as Lira proclaims that he is quite 'owned' for the moment. Shoulders are shrugged, a nod is given, but a waggle of brows promises his time will surely be theirs at some point. A combination of deterrents and Lira and Rieve are alone with their hot drinks and the warm fuzzies rescuing a droid brings.
"Lothal? You spent way too long at the Loth Cat sanctuary I'll wager, though I can't blame you." A sip is taken, heated tendrils of steam curl from his lips as he exhales. "I myself have moved from 'dancing' to a more 'choreography-esque' role... though still with the same means to an end of course."
Of course, the mntion of having met someone has Rieve lean in, elbows on the edge of the table, his bright eyes gazing intently into Lira's own. "You met someone? Oh really?" His grin slowly widens. Cheeks a dimpled. That gap in his teeth just barely exposed. "An archaeologist too? I thought I noted a couple of dusty fingerprints on your lekku when I arrived, how salacious!" The teasing tone is nothing short of laden with theatrics. "Tell me more of them! I am intrigued. I am invested! I am... so very interested." That grin remains etched upon his features as he sets his chin upon his right hand, supported by his elbow upon the table. Brows are inevitably waggled.
Memories of an giant, eight-foot-tall monster falling to all fours and loping with menace across an expanse of field from the treeline, lit only by the silvery light of the full moon, flash behind Lira's eyes at the mention of the Loth Cat sanctuary, and her purple grin tugs a bit lopsidedly.
"Not... as much as I would have liked," she says, collecting her mug and lifting it up in front of her to inhale the rich scent of mocha with a pleasure that seems like it might be better reserved for somewhere more private. And yet, she doesn't seem to care, just closing her eyes and blowing out a long, contented breath.
"Thank you. I've needed this."
And when her eyes open again to find him, it doesn't seem like she's just talking about a hot beverage.
The mention of dusty fingerprints on her lekku has her laughing, but it's a faint, coy sort of thing that brings heat back up into her cheeks. "He hasn't touched my lekku," she insists with mock indignation, which itself carries a lot of explanation about how far that relationship has progressed in the rush to shy defensiveness.
"His name is Bryett. And things are... new."
New, but obviously she's no less optimistic about it for that. There's a certain twinkle of life in those eyes that goes beyond even her normal zest.
"He's... well... hopefully you'll meet him."
She doesn't really seem to know what else to say beyond that, just blushing as she sips at her mocha and then takes in another breath.
"It's really good to see you. I've missed you."
Handsome, gallant, hasn't aged in the last 25 years... not a mark upon him! Aaaah the wonders of medical science and hours spent on various routines. The way that burly sort clutches the droid along with those happy beeps and boops, well Rieve grins that gap-toothed grin and offers a florish of a salute to the fellow and his clearly much loved droid. "Those who claim droids have no feeling? No life, no love in them? Just machines? They are fools one and all..." Rieves pauses and adopts a rather rakish smirk, brows cast at an angle as Lira proclaims that he is quite 'owned' for the moment. Shoulders are shrugged, a nod is given, but a waggle of brows promises his time will surely be theirs at some point. A combination of deterrents and Lira and Rieve are alone with their hot drinks and the warm fuzzies rescuing a droid brings.
"Lothal? You spent way too long at the Loth Cat sanctuary I'll wager, though I can't blame you." A sip is taken, heated tendrils of steam curl from his lips as he exhales. "I myself have moved from 'dancing' to a more 'choreography-esque' role... though still with the same means to an end of course."
Of course, the mntion of having met someone has Rieve lean in, elbows on the edge of the table, his bright eyes gazing intently into Lira's own. "You met someone? Oh really?" His grin slowly widens. Cheeks a dimpled. That gap in his teeth just barely exposed. "An archaeologist too? I thought I noted a couple of dusty fingerprints on your lekku when I arrived, how salacious!" The teasing tone is nothing short of laden with theatrics. "Tell me more of them! I am intrigued. I am invested! I am... so very interested. Tell. Me. Everything cherie." That grin remains etched upon his features as he sets his chin upon his right hand, supported by his elbow upon the table. Brows are inevitably waggled.
The two of course sat at a table, hardly hiding themselves from the locals and enjoying a steaming beverage apiece!
Memories of an giant, eight-foot-tall monster falling to all fours and loping with menace across an expanse of field from the treeline, lit only by the silvery light of the full moon, flash behind Lira's eyes at the mention of the Loth Cat sanctuary, and her purple grin tugs a bit lopsidedly.
"Not... as much as I would have liked," she says, collecting her mug and lifting it up in front of her to inhale the rich scent of mocha with a pleasure that seems like it might be better reserved for somewhere more private. And yet, she doesn't seem to care, just closing her eyes and blowing out a long, contented breath.
"Thank you. I've needed this."
And when her eyes open again to find him, it doesn't seem like she's just talking about a hot beverage.
The mention of dusty fingerprints on her lekku has her laughing, but it's a faint, coy sort of thing that brings heat back up into her cheeks. "He hasn't touched my lekku," she insists with mock indignation, which itself carries a lot of explanation about how far that relationship has progressed in the rush to shy defensiveness.
"His name is Bryett. And things are... new."
New, but obviously she's no less optimistic about it for that. There's a certain twinkle of life in those eyes that goes beyond even her normal zest.
"He's... well... hopefully you'll meet him."
She doesn't really seem to know what else to say beyond that, just blushing as she sips at her mocha and then takes in another breath.
"It's really good to see you. I've missed you."
It is possible that someone has been catching up on a little research and lost track of time. Possible that he was supposed to venture out of the ship well before now. To pick his way through their latest stop -- though again, it is one that the well-traveled man has visited before -- and meet up with Lira.
But the fact is that Bryett is still a little heady with the flush of success on Lothal. After years of less than scrupulous activities to get by, to taste real success in his quest for the past is a... heady thing indeed.
So the simple truth of the matter is he got lost in his latest bits of research, lost track of what time it was, and now finds himself tromping through the falling snow, that battered jacket wrapped around him tight, offering up a little warmth and comfort despite the chilly weather.
One of the many advantages of dressing so pragmatically if a little drably at times. It's not very showy, but no matter the weather, no matter if he is heading to a little back-water tavern or crawling about ancient ruins, he is at least passably dressed for the occasions.
It's not something that one necessarily thinks about a lot, at least before one has travelled the galaxy for awhile, but travel tends to mean rather frequent changes in those seasons. One minute it might be hot and humid jungles, a couple of days later it is a snowy plain on the backend to nowhere. An inbetween it is the featurelessness of space, with the pure climate control of a ship to offer a little bit of a break.
Slipping through the door to The Lodge, the dusty haired man lingers in the doorway for just a moment -- both to give his eyes a chance to adjust after the stark whiteness outside to the much more dim, muted color palette within and to stamp a little of the snow from his boots so he doesn't go tracking anymore then he needs to throughout the room.
Eyes flash over nearby tables, picking out Lira and her companion almost at once and a little smile flashes across his expression as Bryett begins to tromp on over. "Sorry, I lost track of time," he admits sheepishly as he lays a hand on the back of her chair.
Swift and graceful. Rieve rises instantly, heels clicking deftly with a dull thump of thick boots, and a gentle 45 degree bow offered to Bryett, before the languid Hapan shifts and settles once more, but not before summoning another hot beverage with a flourish of a hand gesture and a flash of those bright blue eyes directed bar-wards. "Oh, I had no idea he was with us... you minx!" Rieve intones to Lira as he gestures to a seat beside the Twi'lek.
"Please join us, tell me all about yourself... archaeologist? So an adventurer, explorer, dare devil... a life of excitement and wonder. I am jealous already." Rieve's words drift and flow with ease as he too settles and sits, leaning back lazily within his chair, his long blue hair flung over his right shoulder with a graceful flourish and sweep of his hand. "Where did you meet? When did you meet? Where will you meet next? I demand all the details. Every last one, for the delightful colour in Lira's heeks speaks volumes!" His voice rises, and then falls once a couple of locals glance over at the florid Hapan. His grin says it all. He's delighted.
"I roam the galaxy attending soirees and functions, you at least do something far more important... something with substance... had I applied myself to the lessons my tutors arranged I'd have been a trade envoy by now, how boring... but you." Rieve jabs a finger Bryett-wards. "Why you have the galaxy at your finger tips, adventure on every planet!"
Lira didn't budge until Rieve was rising from his char, just as Bryett was coming up behind her to set a hand there. Did she not know? See him out of the corner of her eye? _Feel_ him coming through more mystical means?
Who's to say?
What does happen, though, is that as soon as Rieve stands to greet him, the lavender-skinned young woman turns her face up in time to catch Bryett arriving above her, and a warm smile spreads across her purple lips.
"I wasn't sure he was," she all but whispers, amused, and though she's speaking to Rieve, she's smiling at Bryett.
She's delighted to see him. It's written all over her face. But she doesn't leap up in excitement or jump into his arms, even if there might just be a twinkle of desire to do just that in her eyes. She sits until Rieve has had his bow, and then she rises. Not on the floor, but in her chair. She unfolds her legs and stands up on the seat so that, when she reaches her full height, she's actually a little taller than he is (for once)!
It's from there that she can lean in and give him a kiss. Soft. Warm. Brief. And then look back to Rieve.
"Bry, this is my best friend, Rieve Selki," she says, her hand lingering on Bryett's shoulder for just a moment longer (she seemed to enjoy the sudden reversal of the height disparity), before finally releasing him so he could sit, too. And when he does? She slides her steaming mug of mocha over in front of him to share.
The questions from Rieve, though, prompt a warm, friendly laugh from the girl, who seems to... gravitate towards Bryett once he's seated. A little lean of her body. A shift of her lekku. It's like he's a fireplace, and she's just trying to get warm.
At least she's not crawling into his lap like a cat.
Not yet, anyway.
There is not much that can take Bryett aback, though it is possible that the sheer grace and precision of that bow which is nearly a match for Lira's is something that he is not entirely accustomed to. But any surprise quickly vanishes from his expression a smile flickering over his features instead as he returns the bow -- not quite as practiced to be sure, but apparently he has had at least a couple of occasions to break out such formal greetings in his travels across the galaxy as it isn't completely clumsy or without grace.
"A pleasure to meet you," he offers up politely, amusement lighting on his features at the easy way the pair of them banter.
Then Lira is rising, not from her seat but atop of it and that amusement flickers across his face, through his eyes once more. He doesn't miss that faintly pleased expression, now that she finds herself 'taller' then him at least for the moment. Even as her hand finds his shoulder, his own slips out to rest on her hip, surely just to steady her on her perch and for no other reasons before leaning up to return that kiss briefly, unself-consciously.
"If only Jeeves could see you now," he murmurs lowly, the corners of his mouth quirking just a little. If the officious droid has problems with her perching herself on the table, he would surely be horrified at the idea of her standing in a chair. Out in public nonetheless. Oh my!
He seems more then willing to take them up on the offer to join them, sinking into the seat beside Lira without a second thought. "So long as I'm not interrupting your reunion," he says with a little grin. That amusement doesn't seem to fade at Rieve's description of his chosen profession. A few weeks ago he might have scoffed at that. He might have scoffed at being called an archaeologist at all, regardless of his years of training, his scholarly studies and time in the field. If he was honest con-man might have fit him better.
A lot can change in a very short amount of time.
"Mmmmm, it's certainly not all glamorous, but it has it's moments," he agrees. "As I imagine traveling the galaxy and seeing the more glamorous side of things has its compensations too," he admits, giving a little shrug. "I think that might be a little bit more valued then the lessons the past might provide, at least in some circles."
"Interrupting? Oh no no no! Sit sit! Settle! Settle! It has been so long since we last just sat and enjoyed eachother's company. Life has a way of getting in the way... but we always find a way to meet, exchange tales and catch up, and now you are very much a part of that." That extra hot beverage arrives a mere moment after leaving all three with a steaming hot drink before them, and Rieve himself is settling into the warm embrace of his thick fur coat, both hands cupping his hot mug of oh so likely yet mildly alcoholic something or other.
"There are a few compensations, but we all add to the perpetual pot of knowledge and uhhh... whatever I do." Rieve grins as he blows those tendrils of steam from atop his mug, sending them swirling all about before he dares take a sip. "So did you find Lira? Or did Lira just come a stomping along and find you?" A brow is quirked, his gaze drifts from Bryatt to Lira and then back again. "It is wonderful to see, given all that looms out there in the dark... to have someone is to always have a home, an anchor, a brace against any storm."
The blue-haired Hapan sets his steaming mug down, allowing the heat to slowly seep from his bare hands having relished the sting of boiling toddy through the mug. "Anything bring you here? I once encountered a sonic device that stored memories in noise... or sound waves... I accompanied an explorer much like yourself, she was quite the spelunker and seeker of knowledge... I managed to bleed out my ears when accidentally activating the device, so I know how dangerous your explorations can be first hand."
"Yes. 'Whatever' you do."
The words drip like thick syrup from Lira's lips, her young, blue eyes alight with mirth as she leans back in her chair and watches Rieve. Her legs are criss-crossed in front of her again. Anyone that was expecting Lira to 'sit like a lady' is surely, at this point, sadly mistaken.
Including Jeeves, if he were allowed off of the ship. There's no restraining bolt. It's just the only 'order' Lira's ever given him that he's been willing to follow, the stubborn old butler droid. And that's only because of his self preservation coefficient.
"And _I'm_ a dancer."
She's not. Rieve knows she's not. Bryett knows she's not. If the table is actually a mimic, it knows she's not. The droid eavesdropping at the next table over knows she's not.
She's not a very good liar. But she is good at smiling. Not seductively. She's not good at seduction. She's just good at smiling. Probably because she tends to do it so much.
"Jeeves can bite my butt, the old heap of scrap metal parts shoved together in a.. heaping pile of.. parts."
She's not great at insults, either.
"The next time he gives me grief for sitting on _my_ table, I'm going to steal one of his optical sensors. Then we'll see if he does it again."
But apparently she will discuss the possibility of cutting out someone's eyeball. It isn't until after she's said it that she seems to realize it was a bridge too far, even for her, and she wrinkles her nose.
"Okay.. so I probably won't. But I'm not going to listen."
Yeah. That'll teach him.
She seems to catch up, though, to the questions about Bryett and their relationship, and Lira glances between them with a little smile.
"Oh! I helped Bryett with some negotiations on Nar Shaddaa, and then he offered to help me with some research I was doing. That's how we ended up on Lothal. Then I took him to meet my parents, who I hadn't seen for... close to two years."
Beat.
"Which... when I say it like that, seems _super_ fast. But he was amazing. I need to go get some things from my old stuff, and I... wanted him to see what life was like for me, growing up. The circus. And the people. And... my family."
The last is muttered a little darkly, but she still smiles. She does take her mug back when Bryett ends up with his own, though, and takes another sip from it. Her other hand? Well, its found its way into Bryett's, somehow.
While he might be dressed for the weather the hot drink is nonetheless most welcome and Bryett nods his thanks as it is deposited in front of him, little tendrils of steam rising up from the mug. While he doesn't immediately take a sip, he does wrap those hands around the cup, the heat from it seeming to do a great deal to warm him up from the somewhat inclement weather outside.
Again, he casts a grin Lira's way as she lets her discontent for the cantankerous butler droid known, or at least plays at it at any rate. Just how much of it is legitimate -- if that is truly the one being in all the galaxy that can get under her skin and coax an unkind word from her -- or if that is simply the sort of relationship they have developed is a mystery even to him it would appear.
"Well you know that I am very much in favor of you perching on that table. Or standing on chairs for that matter," he offers back to her with that easy smile. "Though I'm not sure how long it might take for me to get used to you looking down at me," he notes wryly. That's definitely something of a change of perspective for them.
The mention of how they met draws a sardonic look to his face, an amused glint in his eye as his gaze flickers back and forth between the old friends. "She might be a little too modest. Her intervention was... very timely indeed. Honestly, I don't have high hopes for the outcome of that particular transaction if she hadn't happened by and convinced them to be a little more reasonable in their expectations," he admits.
None of it is precisely a lie. It is just a shading of the truth. She did, afterall, make the pair of gangsters an offer -- to leave him alone and go in piece. They rejected said offer and got rather thoroughly schooled for their trouble. Some might call that a fight, a physical altercation. The more generous sorts might settle for aggressive negotiations.
Either way, it worked out pretty good for him. And hopefully for her too.
"And then yes, Lothal to Ord Mantell and then out here. It's been an interesting few weeks. Honestly, I don't know if there is anything of particular note here on Vandor, but I figured since we were going to be stopping by it might be worth to do a little research. See if any potential opportunities might catch my eye," he concedes before falling silent and listening to Rieve's own exploits for a moment. "It sounds like you do indeed have some experience with some of the more exciting parts of the job. Trust me, a lot of the time it is pouring through old records on the Holonet or poking through old, actual physical records on backwater worlds," he asserts.
And other times it is a Shadow monster trying to eat you. One's mileage can vary greatly.
"Ugh... learning." Rieve waves a hand playfully and grins. "Forgive me, I expect you to spread the word far and wide as to what a total waste of space I am should anyone ask, got to keep up the reputation as merely spending my time attending the lastest soirees." A wink is offered as he continues to bask and laze and occasionally sip at his drink. "It is dangerous out there... so it's good you've found Lira, I doubt there's a soul I know that's better at both attracting trouble and mischief, and dealing with it quite effectively and swiftly."
"And timely interventions are simply the best, they are laden with dramatic license and the tales one can weave from those interactions give you an ample source of material for all manner of tales be they true or lavished with the theatrical... sometimes you just have to embellish for the sake of the audience." He pauses, looking to Lira and grinning. "I've never done that with you, I swear." Then back to Bryatt. "I so have." And then back to Lira. "I haven't, I promise." Wink.
Well you know that I am very much in favor of you perching on that table.
Was there a chance for Lira to be embarrassed by what that suggestion implied? Probably. Is she? Not in the least. Why? Probably because it didn't occur to her to be. Lira, by all accounts, is an actual innocent. She doesn't seem to have any concept of sexual innuendo, and given how bad she is at lying, she's probably not just covering it up, either.
"Thank you. _Someone_ on my side, for once. I'm going to order that rusted bucket of bolts to listen to you, and we're going to solve this once and for all."
That's Lira's biggest problem, right now. It's not the increasingly violent war between the New Rebellion and the Sith, the skirmishes that are putting millions in harm's way, that the Jedi have begun intervening in. It's not the bounty hunters that are after the death mark that the Solari Cartel put on her a few months ago. It's not even that she's been drinking her hot mocha so quickly that it's almost gone.
It's that her stupid butler droid won't let her sit on the stupid holotable when she wants to.
Stupid butler droid. Who needs a butler droid, anyway?
She takes another drink of her mocha, listening to both of them, but her gaze shifts back at Rieve's mention of mischief and she lowers her mug in righteous indigitation.
"Why does _everyone_ say that about me?!"
Because it's true. At least the first part. Lira is an absolute magnet for trouble. Dealing with it... comes and goes. Being a Jedi Padawan helps. Or maybe that's the reason she gets into all the trouble. Who's to say, really?
But then... the betrayal.
I've never done that with you, I swear. I so have. I haven't, I promise.
Lira's mouth falls open. She _thunks_ her mug down on the table, and both of her hands come up to cover her heart. She's such a horrible actress, and yet she makes such a dramatic show of it that she ends up sliding over... and over... and over... until she falls completely out of her chair and onto the dirty floor, on her back, one arm stretching up towards the ceiling.
"My one... true... friend..." she gasps, eyes going distant, unfocused, "...lied... to me..."
Then her eyes slide closed.
It's ridiculous.
For whatever reason, Jeeves does seem to like him. Or perhaps he merely tolerates him because he at least outwardly seems to have a little more decorum then his actual owner. He doesn't sit cross-legged in the middle of tables. He doesn't stand on chairs. He would surely never dramatically clutch at his heart and fall over onto the floor, bemoaning her fate at be surrounded by liars and scoundrels.
It's probably a good thing that Jeeves doesn't know just how Bryett has made a living for the past several years. The criminals he has swindled. The forged antiquities that he has sold. Suddenly he might not look like such a rolemodel for Lira's behavior.
"Hey, you know I'm always on your side," Bryett asserts. "Particularly when it comes to your right to perch on your own table. Dignity can be overrated, no matter what Jeeves says," he teases lightly, finally lifting his own drink to his lips, taking a lingering sip of it, letting that warmth wash through him. His calling might take him to all sorts of places it's true, but he definitely has a preference for places that are a little warmer then Vandor, at least when he has any say in the matter. Maybe he would have been better off staying on the ship.
But then of ocurse he would have missed the show.
"As a great fan of a well told story, I can appreciate that," the dusty-haired man says to Rieve, a smile curving over his features once more. There is something about a well-turned tale that is hard to resist. It is, afterall, exactly that sort of thing that inspired his love in history. And it has proven to be more then a little bit handy over the years in selling others on whatever fake expedition or forged artifacts that he happened to be peddling at the time.
And then Lira is putting on her performance, drawing not only the eyes at their table, but surely the attention from throughout the tavern. "It is possible that you missed your calling, you know. I think you would have had a bright future as a performer," he asserts, slipping from his seat to crouch down at her side.
His own instincts there might not be quite so naturally honed, but he's willing to play along at least a little, holding a hand to her before giving a mock gasp. "I think she's dead. Of a broken heart..." he pronounces slyly.
"Oh no." Rieve offers as he peers over the table at the theatrics being performed for his delight. A sip is taken of his drink, and a grin slips across his lips as he shuffles forward in his seat a little. "Well. How long is customary for an archeologist to start robbing a body? Do we have to wait a hundred or so years, or can we just techically loot it now and save all the hassle of finding her and looting her later? There'd be less research if we do it now. Less effort on our parts?"
Rieve's grin only serves to widen as he pushes up to rest both palms on the table and peer over the edge at Lira. "My dear sweet Lira, had I known that my treachery would be thyne undoing? I would have cast myself into the nearest crevass to ensure that you suffered not a jot... though... since you have died of a broken heart, would you mind if we rummaged for enough cred sticks to pay our tab?" The question asked with such lazy and oh so smirky indifference.
Lira cracks one eye open to look up at Bryett after her pronouncement, her lips pursing as she curls her fingers around his.
"Don't you dare start. I have no idea what my mother said to you..."
But there's mirth twinkling in that one open eye that she can only barely keep from spreading to the corners of her mouth. But then Rieve is looking down on her, beseeching her for her no-longer-needed cred sticks now that she's passed on to the next plane of existence, and she seems to die a second time throwing her free arm over her eyes.
She's still on the floor. The dirty, grimy, bar floor. She doesn't seem to mind in the least.
"Take them. I don't need them any longer," she laments.
Lira doesn't even seem to mind the murmurs of 'drama queen' and even less savory remarks that might bubble up from those nearby who felt disturbed by her 'performance.' It was, after all, a truly awful one. It still is, given that she's still lying there with no signs of imminent recovery... until a shadow falls across her.
Two large men. One Houk. One Trandoshan.
Grozzak Naad stands at an imposing 7'5", his broad shoulders and barrel chest making him a mountain of a Houk. His mottled blue-gray skin is crisscrossed with scars, and his thick, muscular arms are the size of most beings' thighs. He wears a reinforced combat vest over a tattered long-sleeved tunic, with heavy cargo pants tucked into steel-toed boots.
Skir Vossk is a lean, sinewy Trandoshan, standing at 6'8" with a sleek, agile frame covered in dark green scales. He wears a fitted black jumpsuit reinforced with lightweight armor plating, and a utility belt bristling with gadgets and blasters. A tactical cloak drapes over his shoulders, blending with the shadows as he moves, while his clawed hands rest lightly on the hilts of his twin vibroblades.
"If she ain't dead already, she's about to be." "Yessssss. Come with usssss, girl. No need to make a messsss insssside."
Because these guys aren't just bounty hunting goons. They're caricatures of bounty hunting goons.
The sound of their voices has Lira sliding her hand down a little towards her nose so she can look up at them, and she groans. "Come on, guys... like five minutes ago I was trying to make a case for how I'm not _always_ a magnet for trouble, and you two are _really_ ruining that for me, right now."
Fear? Even looking up from the floor at the two absolutely gigantic (by comparison to Lira, at least) figures approaching?
Not from Lira.
Honestly? After Lothal and Ord Mantell and her reunion with her family, Bryett is just kinda glad that Lira can enjoy herself like this. Can find a moment to be a little showy, a little silly and just cut loose. Things have been a little heavy afterall, both from the perspective of physical risk and from the emotional weight of everything she has had to deal with recently.
Compared to that, a few less the nkind comments from a few strangers really is nothing at all to be worried about. It doesn't bother him, nor does Rieve seem annything but amused by her performance. Really, that's all that matters.
"Mmmm, that's a good question. Admittedly when you start dealing with the freshly dead the line between archaeological discovery and simple theft becomes a little more blurred then when your dealing with people dead hundreds of years," he concedes. The authorities can be so very fussy about that kind of thing.
"But I mean, she is a generous soul and I'm sure she would want to do what she could to ease our sense of loss. And her credit sticks might go a way to doing that," he adds, not quite holding back that smile even as she throws her arm across her eyes. "She was also kinda my ride and I'm really not looking forward to going back to the public shuttles..." he admits.
Really, they could probably drag this out for sometime. At least until one of the servers dropped by and asked them to stop making a scene and disturbing the other customers. But it doesn't get that far. Not until those two ominous shadows fall across them.
At the best of times both Houks and Trandoshans can be a little on the intimidating side. And when they are decked out like these two are, when they make it clear that they are indeed looking for trouble, well, that doesn't do anything positive for the fear factor.
Shooting a glance towards the tavern door, Bryett spots Zee -- the personal bodyguard droid Lira has assigned to shadow him -- having made his discrete entrance, having noted the arrival of the pair of ruffians -- and while that eases his mind a little, it's still not much.
Scrambling to his feet, Bryett forces an uneasy smile on his face, trying to position himself in front of Lira, to give her time to get back up as well. "Now gentleman, I'm sure there's just been some sort of misunderstanding here. Why don't you join us for a drink and we can talk things out. Like civilized sentients. My treat."
Rieve moves to settle back in his chair for the moment, slipping his shoulders beneath the furry bulk of his rather extravagant fur coat as if the worry of leaving the item behind was perhaps front and centre of his mind. The fact it also held his side arm, a rather bulky and ugly blaster pistol was probably useful too. Bryett's shift ensured that Rieve could move too, the more people that moved, the more confusing it was, the more one dge they likely were, perhaps that wasn't good? Either way the Hapan moves with grace and ease, his one arm buried within the folds of the coat, fingers sliding deftly down the stock of his JSP, fingers seeking the trigger in swift increments.
"Do you know who I am?" Haughty. Imperious. Those features are indeed regal and of excellent genetic stock. Why like most Hapan nobility, Rieve is the product of sexy space pirates kidnapping and boinking beautiful people many moons ago. Sleek. Agile. Amazing eyebrows. And a natural disposition to playing the offended noble. Sure Rieve rather lsot his title due to disgrace and such, but they surely don't know that. "I'm going to have to insist that you come back another time, else I'll be forced to do something you'll regret."
"No. We're not gentlemen," the Houk booms, shoving a meaty finger in Bryett's face. "Give us the girl, or we go through you."
But Bryett's re-positioning had worked for Lira. While she hadn't exactly been in that much of a hurry to get up off of the floor before, when the situation seemed to escalate, the little lavender acrobatic simply rolled over and sprung up onto her feet.
Rieve's words drew the Trandoshan's attention, his vertically slitted eyes blinking at the Hapan in sudden concern. His hand is already on the hilt of his vibroblade, but Rieve's presence alone is enough to bring him up short. "Who are yousssss?... Grozzzzzak?"
Grozzak, the big Houk, looks over at the prompt of his... companion? Bounty hunting partner? Fellow thug? And he, too, eyes Rieve, suddenly unsure.
Is he Imperial? They likely don't need Sith entanglements, if they're hunting bounties this far out. No doubt, they were scanning faces at the landing pad when Lira stepped out in the cold, and her face came up with a hit. Hunting this far away from civilization is sure to be a long, profitless venture.
At least, until today. Unless Rieve really can cause problems for them.
And while those two are contemplating that, the twi'lek they're after is already on the move. That rafter she was on earlier? She's up there again, but there's no precarious positioning of chair on table and clumsy attempt to fumble her way up. With a few quick steps to the closest of the cantina's interior pillars, she's parkouring her way up the side of the pole and then leaping up to grab the rafter. She swings her way over on top of it, and suddenly she's moving around the shadows up the ceiling.
Some people saw her do it with wide-eyed fascination. She's small, but she's incredibly strong and agile, if she could accomplish that.
Others missed it entirely, too focused on the two hulking brutes that tower over Bryett and Rieve. And to them, the twi'lek girl is simply... gone.
Skir, at least, seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye. He was tracking her movement up into the darkness with his eyes, face twisting with frustration. "Sssshe is getting away!"
Yeah, Bryett didn't really have high hopes that he could deescalate the situation with words. he has a little practice with fast talk, he can offer up a good story when he needs to though he prefers the chance to prepare a little ahead of time instead of just relying on a snappy line of banter.
The problem too is that he is not trying to sell them somehting here. Not trying to convince them to invest in some fraudulent expedition to some lost world where the cities are made out of precious metal and the streets paved with gemstones. He's trying to buy time, and these two look like a reasonably capable sort. Experienced bounty hunters. Who aren't going to be easily dissuaded.
Really, Bryett's probably lucky that all he gets for his trouble is a beefy finger raised in his face and not an up close and personal view of that whole, impressively large fist. Still, it does seem like it's just a matter of time.
Fortunately the imperious disdain from Rieve is a little more effective at making the pair hesitate then Bryett's attempt at comraderly friendliness. THe possibility that they might be stepping on someone's toes, someone important, is more of a consideration to them -- thus disproving that the carrot is better then the stick.
The stick seems to be doing just fine here.
While Bryett might not have been convincing anyone, he was at least a physical barrier. Not one that would take terribly long to go through mind you, but Rieve's words in combination give Lira more then enough time to act, to not only regain her feet but to keep right on going. Trying to lure them away perhaps? Give them something else to focus on besides the pair at the table.
For a moment Bryett considers trying to intervene physically, but glancing at the pair of mountains of scales and flesh that... probably isn't going to go well. And while he has a vibrodagger tucked away in his belt, thus far things haven't escalated. And he doesn't want to be the one who escalates them.
So trusting that Lira knows what she is doing, he flicks a discrete nod in Zee's direction and backpeddles until the edge of the table stops any further immediate retreat, hand at his belt, trying to keep the concern from his expression.
"You fools." Rieve utters as he rises to his most imperial height, ram-rod straight, chin tilted at just the right angle, all those endless years with Hapan tutors having paid off. His gun toting hand remains hidden, the other sweeps through his hair as a deep breath is taken, annoyed, peturbed, the same level of annoyance that would be levied against an incorrect dinner order and yet... yet it simmers on the edge of something else entirely.
"You'll stand down immediately, you've ruined what was the accumulation of weeks of progress... weeks of intelligence gathering... travel to this interminable place amongst other equally unpleasant locales." Rieve's nostrils flare in a way that speaks of nobility and the rights of those so blessed with titles and honorifics and all manner of lordly nuance and privilege. Noting that Bryett remains, the desire to shoot first doesn't even arise. The risk to others is far too great. So he continues his little Hapan lord routine. It goes hand in hand with anyone assuming he's some uptight Imperial Agent.
He never admits as much. It's all based on assumptions, on stance, on poise, on wording. "I care little for whatever you've been promised... but rest assured whoever sent you here is going to have to endure my wrath, don't even glance after her... you'll answer my questions." Clipped. The words are spoken with ease and starkly so. There's no Hapan accent, there's just bubbling fury and politeness. A glance is given Bryett, a brow arched. "Go after her. You have the tracking device yes? Make sure you aren't followed." And to those hunters, Rieve looks... his face a blank slate of non-emotion and cold haughty nobility.
Weeks of intelligence gathering? HA!
Even Grozzak and Skir don't seem to believe that an undercover Imperial intelligence officer is about to blow his cover and start spouting off about his mission in the middle of a bar. What worry existed on their faces fades to snarls, and while Grozzak just balls one big, meaty fist, which he apparently intends to drive in Rieve's direction, Skir draws that vibroblade, keeping his eyes focused towards the darkened ceiling, where Lira has disappeared up into the darkened rafters.
From her shadowy perch, Lira watches from high above. Her friends may have thought she abandoned them, but she has that San-Ni staff gripped in one hand. And from that vantage point, she does exactly what she told Bryett she would do when presented with a situation like this... she trusts in the Force.
Not every situation is as straight forward as it seems. Not every tense stand-off has the same set of choices or outcomes. Sometimes, the best tactic is simply not to run in and do something foolish. With their quarry hiding, at least one of them is distracted. And though she closes her eyes, trying to reach out through the Force to help Rieve's bluff along, it's Bryett's nod to Zee that has the most effect.
It gives the droid permission to shift into action.
"We're not answering anything!" the Houk booms, but before he can deploy that fist, the broad-shouldered, humanoid form of Z-3 -- the two-meter-tall 501-Z Police Droid carrying the imposing rifle -- speaks up and takes two steps forward.
"Under Section One-Zero-Four-Two-Six-Five-Point-Three of Imperial Law, you are hereby ordered to stand down. Leave the premises or I will be forced to arrest you."
Its synthesized voice hints at nothing in the way of fear. The droid's rifle is already raised, drawing a bead on Grozzak's head, and its slitted visor glows red with its intent.
This makes both of the goons come to a sudden stop and turn to face the droid. Then look at Rieve. Then back at the droid. And though there's a low rumble of a growl like thunder from Grozzak's throat, he steps back from Rieve and holds up his hands.
"The girl. Ssssshe's gone," Skir hisses at his companion.
"Fine. We're leaving. But if we see her again, she better hope she still has a bunch of Imps around to save her," Grozzak grumps, slapping Skir in the shoulder with the back of his hand hard enough to make a CLAK against his armor plating. "Let's go."
And then they're both lumbering towards the exit.
Given a choice in these kind of things, Bryett would generally prefer not to get into fights. Some of that might admittedly have something to do with the fact that his particular skillset doesn't really lend itself to the rough and tumble. But much more of it has to do with the fact that he is really a 'live and let live' sort. Most of the time. Violence rarely brings anything good to the forefront.
Of course sometimes you don't really have a choice. Sometimes you bush a bluff, a con a little too far and the mark gets an inkling of what is going on. And unless you have really don't a great job in picking out said mark, there is a reasonable chanc that things are going to go poorly.
That certainly seems to be the spot that they are in right at the moment. The wariness and confusion seems to fade from the two hulking hunter's eyes and as they stop buying what Rieve is selling Bryett prepares for the worst, even as he tries to make a show of doing as he is ordered, to slip past them and follow after Lira.
He's pretty certain that the lavender twi'lek woman isn't about to leave either of them alone if it comes to that.
Fortunately they receive reinforcements. While the two hulking figures certainly aren't concerned with Bryett, and they increasingly appear to be dubious about Rieve's credentials, the fact that Zee chooses that moment to intervene, to step in and start quoting regulations tips things back in their favor. Maybe the officious sounding codes are suitably Imperial, or maybe it is the fact that the security droid already has his weapon drawn and has the drop on the two hunters that does it, but as the two mutter and decide tht discretion is the better part of valor, Bryett lets out a long, slow breath, doing his best to mask the fact that he is relieved. Doing his best to just watch warily as the pair begin to retreat through the room, aparently still not realizing that Lira is just above their heads.
He even manages to avoid flinching when he suddenly hears Lira's voice in his head, though his eyes do dart about the tavern as if hearing something before giving an imperceptable nod, discretely detaching his commlink from his belt and lifting it up. << Come in Echo. Prep the ship for launch. I think our visit is being cut a little short, >> he murmurs before nodding Zee's way, the simply gesture enough to get him to fall in.
Then his gaze flickers back to the two Hunters, watching them warily, making sure that they don't change their mind before he two starts picking his way towards the exit.
Punch Rieve in the face?! Rieve's left brow quirks and he takes a step back, all graceful and wary, he might well manage to hold it together, but his face is like... the best face he has! It's taken hundreds of thousands of creds to keep it this awesome. And so he maintains the aloof Imp persona regardless of the fact it really hasn't held together. He just watches them go... and when they're gone? He exhales and releases his grip upon his pistol. "Well. I say the next round is on me! Drinks for all!" Rieve treats the bar, and likely wishes both Bryett and Lira a farewell and a see-you-soon, for there's burly snowfolk to carouse with!
