Worst Case Scenario

[Salvo Starborn]

There were only two types of men who found themselves in the Bright Lands of Ryloth: dignitaries and dirt-bags – and Salvo Starborn was no dignitary.

Roughly four hours had passed, and already his skin was turning a crispy shade of pink. He was shirtless, though whoever had dumped him in the desert of eternal sunlight had been gracious enough to allow him the modesty of keeping his pants on. As a trade-off, they'd thrown heavy shackles onto his wrists and ankles and drawn a foot-wide target onto his chest (which, when cleaned off, would be the only patch on white non-chargrilled skin left on him - perfect.) In all his life, he couldn't remember a moment that had been worse than this.

“Fahkin' 'ell.”

Sagging to his knees, Starborn peered up at the sky, his eyes no longer seeing anything but the blinding white of the planet's unforgiving sun. Sweat oozed out of every pore of his body, the stench of it filling his nostrils whilst sand carried by the incessant winds clung to every inch of his skin. He chest rose and fell heavily with every breath.

“Aw'right... this... this i'nt funny any more, you 'ear? You can 'ave your frackin' spice back... Tailhead bastards.”

As if in reply, the wind sudden rose, slamming Starborn face-down into the sand. With his cuffed hands underneath him, he thrashed and groaned for an instant before throwing himself over onto his back and spat every curse and swear that came to mind.

Yet at that very moment, a shrill whistle silenced every word coming out of his mouth.

Still on his back, Starborn saw the figures approaching as if they were upside down, having from some floating island in the sky. The heat shimmered around them, so that they appeared as no more than vague shapes, but they were getting closer. Salvo narrowed his eyes and the whistle came again, this time louder, shriller.

Though the wind raged over him, strong enough to toss a Wookiee to the ground like a rag-doll, they ran still. They ran towards him, unyielding in their pace or path, head-tails tightly bound around their necks. With every few paces, the whistle would sound again. Starborn struggled onto his side, trying to push himself back onto his feet, an utterly frustrating task with the chain running between his ankles. He was on his elbows and knees when their frantic footsteps reached him -

“Thank the fahkin' stars. One a' you, gimme a 'and, 'ere... 'ere, I 'aven't got all day. Hotter than a fahkin' Hutt's arse'ole out 'ere.”

- and carried on, sprinting right past him. Finally staggering to his feet, Salvo watched them go with a look of slack-jawed disbelieve. They hadn't even hesitated, hadn't given him so much as a look. In fact, they were falling over themselves to get away from him - or rather, from what stood on the horizon behind them.

“Storm!” they shrieked, almost as one. “Storm!”

Starborn didn't need to be told twice. Knowing with terrifying certainty that his life depended on it, he ran - or rather, with chain clacking and jangling between his ankles, he shuffled as fast as his feet would carry him.

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"What do you mean you can't find him?" The words came out in a horribly childish whine. "Not that he ever listens to me, but he's supposed be here! He was supposed to be here a week ago!"

Emelie paced barefooted alongside a small pool of water, square in shape, with a small waterfall that recycled itself at the head up against the wall. The area had been installed in the central building of Silenus' residential area as a place for some relaxation, peace, quiet...

"How can he do that to me? I thought we were... were..." The discarded pair of heeled sandals laid forgotten up against one wall, having been removed after she had finished a decent amount of liquid in the bottle she held. "I even made sure to buy the good stuff! A man just doesn't up and vanish!"

Trina adjusted the pair of glasses she wore and sighed, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry, Em... I had everyone look all over. Even checked out that club he didn't think you knew about, place was entirely gone. It's like it never existed."

A string of swears left Emelie before she drank from the bottle again. "Who else am I supposed to go on a drinking binge with, huh? Stupid solider boy is the only one I could trust..."

Trina watched her employer and frowned slightly. "What about Xavier?"

"Xi?? Oh... he'd never... I mean... he might... I never asked..." She halted in her movements and sighed before a determined look reappeared. "He couldn't even remotely keep up anyhow. Blondie was the only human that could!"

"Well have you considered the possibility he might be..."

"Don't you even... Frinking THINK it, Trina! Aint no body in this entire galaxy I've ever met that even came close to being able to shut him down."

The brunette sighed again. "Well, what do you want me to do then?"

"Like I karking know..." Emelie suddenly dropped to the ground, sitting abuptly before taking another long drink from the bottle. "That... Qing Wa Cao De Liu Mang... who the frak am I gonna yell at in gutter-speak now?"

[Salvo Starborn]

He lost sight of them within minutes. Without shackles to hamper their progress, the whistle-blowing strangers were fast fading into a mirage once again. A glance over his shoulder and Starborn saw the sky-high swirling mass of cyclonic wind that made up the storm, the heat of it hitting his face even at a distance. Defying all belief, the layer of sweat on his brow grew thicker.

As he staggered onwards, Starborn's weary feet knocked against the bleached bones of others who had braved the desert before him, inspiring more annoyance than terror.

“Outta my way,” he grunted, giving one fractured skull a particularly hard kick, sending it skittering across the sand-swept sand. It bounced down a dune and then, with a sudden clang, came to a halt.

Near enough falling down the verge after it, he saw that the skull appeared to have hit something. A very non-desert-like something. As the wind blustered back and forth, it alternately covered then cleared that something that was squatting on the sandstone. Merely going with the momentum that had carried him down the hill in the first place, Salvo swung a kick at the thing – and felt the impact reverberate up his entire leg, rattling his bones.

“Galactic Drift,” he swore, hopping backwards as a numbing tingle spread through his foot. He glared at whatever it was that he'd just kicked. “Who put's a fahkin'... pipe in the middle of the desert?!”

But as he swayed closer, it occurred to Starborn that this wasn't such an unfortunate discovery after all. He crouched against the metal tube, which stood only a half foot out of the sand and was roughly four feet wide. It had a covering hatch made up of thick bars, which looked as if they had been scorched by more storms than Starborn cared to think of. He hooked his fingers under the bars and yanked hard, though the cover didn't yield even an inch.

The fact that it didn't budge could only mean one thing, as far as Salvo was concerned: whatever it was covering was valuable. Hell, it had to be more valuable than everything surrounding it! Since there was no sign of salvation on the horizon – unless he suddenly warmed to the idea of redemption on the brink of death and heavenly reward in the afterlife – the hatch was his best shot.

It was also a stubborn little bastard.

“Come on!” Starborn grunted, as he braced his feet against the side of the pipe and yanked at the cover. “Now's no time t'play hard t'get! Open up!”

Yet even this plea wasn't enough. He struggled with it for another ten minutes, entertained the idea of running and actually went so far as to stagger a few steps away before hurrying back to it and wrenching at the damn thing again. It went on and on, and the storm grew nearer and nearer, to the point where he could no longer see and the heat was so strong that it felt as if he might pass out at any moment, only to be consumed in the fires.

With the last of his strength, he hauled himself on top of the access hatch. His head hung forward for a moment, eyes losing focus with the fatigue of it all. He inhaled, long and deep, and slowly drew himself up to face the storm. Though his arms felt like lead, he jerked them up from his sides, spreading them open in invitation.

“You want some of this, eh?” he gasped, stamping his heel against the hatch. “You think 'am scared of you? I'll fahkin' 'ave you, sunshine..” He was laughing now, delirious with the heat and the pain and the impending sense of doom mixed with a strange sense of relief. A restless energy thrashed inside of him, desperate to do something yet unable to make use of his exhausted body – and so he jumped, jumped on the spot like a shock-boxer warming up for his latest fight. Righteous anger welled up inside of him too, at the people who had put him here, at his father, at himself, and so he jumped once again -

“Come on you slaARRRRRRGH!”

- and the cover gave way beneath him, swallowing Starborn into the darkened depths of the underground air duct.

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Emelie... you're drunk." Trina blocked the exit out of the area with the waterfall, her arms spread out and hands firmly placed in the door jam.

Shadowstar's eyes narrowed at her assistant, the bottle now half drained in one hand and her shoes held haphazardly in the other, slung over her shoulder. "So? You aint got no right to go and judge me and this aint no different than any normal day."

"You normally don't get this drunk." The older and far more sober of the two made a grab for the bottle that was quickly cradled out of reach. Another sigh was given as she placed her hand back where it had been, once more blocking her employer, and quite often friend's retreat.

"So?"

"So... You need to stay put. Or at least let me get you back to your suite."

"My suite? Are you crazy? I can't let Xi know I'm getting all effed up over some guy."

Trina gave her an accusing glance. "I thought it wasn't like that...?"

"It's not. He just... just was a good friend, ya know. The frak is he vanishing off the face of... everywhere... for? He's just like Sal!"

"Sal...?"

"Yup. That son of a kath went off and got himself involved with pirates." Emelie paused and looked genuinely hurt. "PIRATES! I swear if I ever see that boy again I'm gonna deck him one something awful."

[Salvo Starborn]

There was a split second, after waking, that Starborn was sure he was dead. Then, with slightly less certainty but no less fear, he became convinced he was undead – that the cramped surroundings he found himself were none other than his own coffin, and that the heat he felt was the fires of a crematorium offering him a warm welcome.

Wiggling back and forth, he simultaneously discovered that his arms were wedged beneath him and that – by cracking his forehead against what felt like metal – there was only a few inches breathing room above him.

When he swore, the word echoed down the length of the air duct. A few more moments of furious thrashing later, and he was just about exhausted, laboured breaths all that were filling the silence.

“Well, ain't this a barrel a' fahkin' chuckles.”

The heat of the earth surrounding the pipe was, at least, minimal compared to that above ground, but that didn't make being wedged in their like a champagne cork ready to pop any more pleasant.

Shoving his heels as best he could against the floor of the pipe, Salvo managed to scooted himself backwards a handful of inches. He tried the same tactic and gritted his teeth against the pain of the hand-cuffs driving into the bottom of his spine. Again and again he slid a microscopic distance along the duct, the skin of his wrists becoming a deeper shade of raw red with every move.

Hours later and it seemed like there would be no light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, the prospect that he was dead and in Hell was becoming more and more believable – when suddenly, a burst of hot pungent air rushed over him. It smelled like shit, but it was the sweetest shit he'd ever smelled.

The top of his head struck something and Salvo craned his neck to see what was ahead of him. In the dark, that was a fairly futile thing to do, but he squinted at the gloom anyway, picking out vague details of what looked like some kind of metal. Somewhere beyond it, he heard the groans of machinery and – could it be?! - voices!

“OI!”

The sound of his own voice made Starborn winced, as it echoed and rebounded against the inside of the cramped pipeline. As the ringing faded from his ears, he called out again, his voice ragged and hoarse.

“Am stuck! S'tighter than a Muun in 'ere!”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Why do all the good ones have to run away?"

Emelie had decided it was best to sit down by that point, even if it meant basically looking like she had crumpled to the ground... which was exactly what had made the decision for her. She was halfway between crying and laughing and generally being a complete mess.

Her assistant could only shake her head as she leaned against the doorjam.

"I don't know, Em. They're men. They do that sometimes."

"He'll leave me too you know." There was an air of defeat and resignation in her voice. "One day.." The bottle, still in hand though verging on empty, was waved. "One day he's gonna just... up and go! I keep having dreams about it."

The assistant didn't reply, but rather let out an annoyed sigh that Emelie ignored as she continued.

"You... you know what he said to me the other day? I asked him to go to Lynaria and he said: No." It was like a declaration of the greatest wrong ever done to the galaxy and she took another drink from the bottle again before continuing. "Said we were too busy with this whole... Russard... deal. And you see that girl they are sending up here? Ms. Lancaster? For frak's sake why didn't they just look up some psychological profile on what Xavier likes in a woman and send her effin gift-wrapped!"

Trina raised an eyebrow and had to hold back a laugh. "Em, seriously? You can't be jealous of her... I haven't known you to be of anyone."

"I'm NOT! ...am I?"

"I would hope not."

"Then... I'm not." Emelie nodded her head.

A pause took place, Trina found herself grateful for the silence but had been with Emelie long enough to know that it only was a matter of time before she'd start up again.

"... What if he makes me leave?"

Trina brought a hand to her face and rolled her eyes.

[Salvo Starborn]

There were three Twi'lek standing over him, each one peering uncertainly at the head and shoulders protruding from one of the many air ducts that fed into their underground filtration station. The station's workers had begun to free him from the pipe, when the sight of his bound hands had given them cause to pause. Now, they observed him in suspicious silence. The jungle-green head-tails of one of the trio suddenly twitched, whilst the other fluttered a pale-blue lekku in reply.

“Don' think I don' know what that means! Fucked a yellow-skinned bird once who showed me how you lot slag each other off.”

The green Twi'lek frowned and turned away, muttering something to his comrades. Twisting his face in frustration, Salvo tried to push himself further out of the duct, but his hand-cuffs were catching against some part of the pipe.

“Oi. OI. Read my wigglin' ears, you mugs – Get. Me. Out.”

It was half an hour later, when he'd just about broken down into begs and sobs, and another four Twi'lek had had their fill of chuckling at his misfortune, when they finally hauled Starborn's body out onto the station floor. He hit the deck like a sack of sweaty meat. The aliens stood over him in a circle, looking far more severe than any tail-head Salvo had had the pleasure of knowing.

“Now, give us one good reason why we shouldn't turn you in to the head-clan.”

His mind raced. Bound, half naked, battered and bruised, he didn't have a lot left to bargain with. “Spice? The good shit... a' can get you bloody swoop-loads of it.”

The blue Twi'lek laughed and folded his arms across his chest. “You might as well try and sell the stars to a spacer.”

“Aw'right, aw'right.. not spice.” He nodded to himself, suddenly aware of the idiocy of that suggestion. “Credits? Everyone needs credits, ey?”

“How much?” The green one asked with growing interest, then looking to his compatriots added: “He can't be worth much, and he can't be carrying much.. unless it's stashed somewhere we can't see.”

“'ey!” Starborn squirmed a little at that thought, but held his tongue and kept his protest to himself. “Look, a' know a bird who'll sort you out. One call to her and you'll be drownin' in... whatever gets your fahkin' brain-tails hard.”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Emelie was determined to finish off the bottle of pricey alcohol in her hand, still mumbling over the fact that she was now fully convinced that the deal with the Russards was Xavier's attempt to push her completely out of the company, how he was going to hand her over to the Black Sun or worse, how she never should have let herself love him, and what the hell was love anyway but a really annoying emotion that could make you feel amazing one second and completely and totally horrible the next?!

Trina meanwhile was attempting to figure out just what to do about her employer. All that she was saying was fine, the girl was drunk and paranoid and missing a friend and didn't actually mean a word of it. Though she partially was cursing herself for not bringing a recording device so she could play this all back to Emelie once she was sober again... well, mostly sober.

The tap that came to her shoulder was immensely surprising, so was the fact that apparently someone was attempting to contact Emelie. A glance was given back to her drunken employer... well, served her right. Trina waved off the girl who had given her the information and sighed, walking over to Emelie.

"You have a call, apparently."

Emelie's eyes lit up. "Is it D?"

"Unless he's on Ryloth, no."

"Oh. I don't know any Twi'leks..."

"Never the less, someone on that planet wants to speak with you."

"Well can't they just call back later? I'm busy."

"Apparently they aren't the type to seem like they would."

"So I have to talk to them?"

"Yep."

"But I'm drunk."

"Yep."

"Shouldn't I be calling them, then?"

"Preemptive strike." The brunette adjusted her glasses once more before helping Emelie get to her feet. "Come on, you'll have to put on a pretty good show here."

"Done it before."

"And I'm sure you'll do it again. Let's go."

[Salvo Starborn]

The holo-image that appeared on Emelie's communicator looked as it was being filmed from a bugs-eye point of view. Three faces peered down into the lens, waggling their eyebrows and glaring as if the woman they were waiting for might be found by gazing deeper still into the eye of the holo-camera.

When someone appeared in the communicator on their end of the line, the trio took a step back. As they did so, the revealed not only themselves – musculuar bodies clad in form fitting uniforms – but also a figure that was apparently kneeling amongst them, bare-chested, hand-cuffed and more than a little ragged around the edges. They glanced warily between Starborn and the image of the woman he'd told them to call.

“Em! Oohhhh, Em,” he heaved an exhausted sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging. “You're a fahkin' sight for sor' eyes, you know tha'?”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

The image on the screen was stared at and the bottle, never forgotten, was brought to her lips once more and the contents downed, letting it drop from her hands once empty. Partially since it was now worthless, partially since she was too drunk to care, and the rest of the reasoning came straight from the sight she had before her.

Her eyes blinked a few times as she tried to process it all before she let out a deep sigh.

"You yi dwei da buen chuo roh... give me one good reason why I shouldn't cut this comm channel off right now."

[Salvo Starborn]

A dry laugh rattled past Starborn's cracked lips, his head rocking backwards as his shoulders shook with hollow laughter. "There's that fahkin' filthy mouth 'ave b'n dreamin' 'bout."

Grinning, he looked with renewed confidence to the trio of tailheads. "See, what a' tell you, boys?" He said with a wink. He turned back to the camera and gave Emelie a quick wink too, already mentally undressing her - and the brunette she was with - in spite of his rather precarious state of being.

"You'll sort these fellas out for me, won' ya, Em?"

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Still aint givin me a reason here, Sally. What have you done to irk these nice fine gentlemen, hmm? Start coughing up reasons and then maybe, just maybe I'll think about it, kay?"

It wasn't that the surprise of seeing Salvo Starborn had sobered her up any, nor that her immediate want was to somehow find a way to dive through the communications relay and come out the other side to strangle him, but Emelie was rather good at making it look like she was under control. The cup of black caf that was slid before her by Trina that she immediately started to drink from helped, though.

"Really, I don't owe you nothing, so I'm still finding it hard to figure out why I'm still talking to you. After all, me pressing the 'bye bye' button would be rather similar to how you just walked right the frak out of my life, now isn't it?"

[Salvo Starborn]

“These geezers? I'nt done nothin' to 'em, 'ave I boys?”

Neither Salvo's grin nor his confidence seemed shaken by the suggestion that she might abandon him to whatever fate Ryloth might have in store for him. Whether or not it was all an act was up for interpretation, but if it was, there was no doubting that he was as convicing a liar as Shadowstar herself.

“Come on, Em, babe. It's me. We can talk 'bout this at your place, 'ey?” His tone gained a slightly sharper edge suddenly. “When 'am not feelin' like 'ave been shat out a' the sarlacc's ancient arsehole.”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"You have looked better..."

There was an almost dreamy hinting in her voice as her mind took a small vacation to the past before she dragged it back kicking and screaming to the present. If there was one thing Emelie might have been guilty of, whether for the better or worse depending on one's perspective, it was her inability to let a call for help from someone she considered a friend be ignored... even if she was rather angry with the person who was making it at the time.

"Fine."

If anything had slipped to give away just how intoxicated she was it would have been that word and the way she spoke it. More to the point: just how quickly she'd given in. Her eyes shifted to the Twi'leks.

"What's the price going to be to make it so I can come get him out of your lekku?"

[Salvo Starborn]

There was a measured pause, and once again the Twi'lek began to communicate solely through their twin-lekku. This time, when Salvo peered up at them he recognised none of the subtle ticks and quivers they spoke with. His faith in greed being the one thing that could transcend all notions of creed and culture endured, however, and was rewarded when the green Twi'lek spoke.

“Eight thousand.”

“Eight- eight thousand?!” Starborn shook his head, equal measures relieved and disappointed by their offer. On the one hand, it was low enough that Em – if she was still doing as well as he thought she would be – would be able to pick it the tab easily. On the other, it was a glancing blow to his ego that he had the same value as a discount used speeder.

Forcing a brightness into his expression that he didn't wholly feel, Starborn looked back into the camera's eye. “Bargain, Em. Best eight-grand you'll spend all year, guaranteed.”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Best eight grand you're going to work off, you mean."

Emelie even surprised herself with how fast she managed to think that and get it to leave her mouth. It brought a bit of a haughty smile to her lips and made her sit up a bit straighter. Her eyes snapped back to the green Twi'lek.

"Deal. I'll be there tomorrow. Clean him up and I'll toss in an extra five hundred."

[Salvo Starborn]

Fourteen hours later and Salvo Starborn found himself, not for the first time, in Kala'din. It was a dusty little city, whose population was almost entirely native. The scant few non-Twi'lek who found their way into Kala'din were mostly spice junkies, hoping to tap the source of that which they needed so much. As he'd walked down the avenue leading to their designating meeting place, one of them made a grab for Salvo's wrist, desperate eyes pleading with him for any scrap of charity.

“Jog on, you shit,” he sneered, shoving the hand awake. He felt a burst of pain in his shoulders and grit his teeth, looking back ahead to the armed Twi'leki he was following. They were out of their uniforms and in loose robes instead, which Starborn had smirked at to begin with but quickly learned that they were more for function than form, as they could conceal any number of weapons. Salvo himself had been kitted out in one of their maintenance jumpsuits, which clung to his body a little too tightly for comfort, accentuating the ache that seemed to hum through every bone, muscle and tissue in his body.

A neon swirl reached out from a grimy wall up ahead, reading something that looked like: Fierfekers. Salvo lifted both eyebrows slightly, lingering in the doorway for a moment until the muzzle of a gun nudged him forward. Hissing, he threw a frown over his shoulder. “Careful where you poke that thing, aw'right? Feelin' a little.. vuln'rable here in this.. full-body johnny.”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

The first thing Emelie had decided, once arriving in Kala'din, was that the sun was way too bright. All the lighting on the Baudo-class yacht she'd taken had been dimmed to a lovely tolerable level that the self-inflicted headache demanded. But one outside, oh the pain. Maybe she should have left Salvo to rot on the planet a bit longer. Just enough to give herself a day or two to recover from the drinking binge she'd been on the night of their discussion.

The pounding in her head didn't stop her from presenting an air that almost spoke of young nobility from a far off planet. Her dress was elegant, starting in a soft cream color at the top whose cut was just shy of being modest and tapering down, hugging curves fashionably until it faded into a soft green shade where the dress ended just below her knee. The heels she had chosen were respectable, but had that wonderful capability of making her legs appear shapely and elongated. Her hair was mostly pinned up, several strands of orange and pink remaining falling about her face. To top it all off she wore a slightly vintage fashion wide brimmed hat the same cream color of her dress that sat low upon her head and at a slight angle, like the type that high fashion ladies once wore to church or whatever religious outing their planet had as an excuse to show off. It even came complete with a delicate trim of lace that cascaded just slightly off of the brim that obscured one side of her face thanks to the way the entire ensemble sat. With an outfit like that she probably looked fairly ready to be taken advantage of... though the two rather burly guards she had pulled from Silenus' operations to come with her probably put a stop to just about anyone's considering it.

All in all, it was probably a bit overkill, but while most of it had been in direct contention with her hangover and the harsh planet she had to step upon, Emelie did have to admit a good deal of it was to just appear anything but weak in front of Salvo.

Speaking of which... She caught sight of him almost as soon as she and her guards entered Fierfekers, and she waited until his eyes locked with hers before letting her rather plain expression change to a coy smirk.

[Salvo Starborn]

There were only a few stragglers hanging around the bar, most of them in-between work shifts. They didn't even bother to look up when Emelie entered, too tired to care. The maintenance workers, in their tunics and robes, had got Salvo covered on all sides, having spread themselves around a table to pass the time with a game of sabacc. Starborn leaned very slightly to the left, getting a glimpse of one players hand before he titled in the opposite direction.

“..'e's got you by the balls,” he said, with a side-long look at the player to his left.

“Arni'soyacho!” hissed the one on the right, tossing his cards across the table with one hand whilst the each shoved a side-arm against Starborn's ribcage. “Frotz!”

Salvo jerked a shoulder towards the seething Twi'lek and arched an eyebrow. “Does 'e know a 'aven't got the foggiest what 'e's goin' on abou'?” As he turned around to look at the rest of the table, his eyes fell upon the very woman they were all waiting for. Leaning back in his chair, and pointedly ignoring the alien who was still menacing a blaster at him, he gave Emelie a vulgar grin.

“Some'a these mugs could do with a lesson in how t'play proper sabacc. In't tha' right, tail-'ead?” Not all of the Twi'lek could speak Basic, but the continuous rippling of their lekku suggested those who could were letting their associates know that they weren't being spoken of favourably. “We could teach 'em a thing or two, me 'an you, Em.”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Each step she took towards the table where Salvo and the Twi'leks were sitting was met with another pulse of agonizing pain in her head. The comaren she had taken that morning apparently just couldn't compete with last night's fun.

"Yes, I'm sure we could..."

Salvo's idea didn't sound too bad actually. She knew damn well that the two of them could probably clean house if they were allowed to do so. Sal could make the eight-grand for his "bail" and she could walk away feeling at least like the trip was worthwhile. If it wasn't for the damn hangover from the nine pits of Corellian hell she might have honestly considered it.

From a delicate little purse she pulled a credit chip and held it between two fingers.

"Eight thousand, five hundred. Just as agreed." Augh, even speaking hurt. It even somehow challenged her sense of stability as every syllable that left her seemed to make the room want to spin one way and then the next.

[Salvo Starborn]

Two of the Twi'leki came forward to verify the credit chips contents, with a hand-held device that didn't look entirely legal in its hodge-podge appearance. Starborn's eyes lingered on the pair as they tensed in anticipation, though his attention soon shifted to Emelie. She looked a little different to the last time he'd seen her – a lot different, in fact. For starters, she was fully clothed. Her outfit was high-class and prim, the kind of thing that was just begging to end up rumpled and filthy on the floor...

“It's legit,” said a voice, bringing Starborn out of the day-dream he'd slipped into.

“Uh huh,” Salvo was rising to his feet before any official signal could be made to hand him over. The self-certainty he radiated was strong enough to smother any self-anxiety he might have felt over wearing the Twi'lek body-glove. Brazenly, he reached out and snatched up a glass of something blue that sat in front of one of the sabacc players, knocking the contents down in one.

“Wish I could say it's been fun, boys, but a a'ways was a fahkin' awful liar,” he said, bringing the empty tumbler back down onto the table with a sharp smack of glass against wood. He skirted the edge of the group, until he was clear of them all and within the protective sphere of Shadowstar's bodyguards. Then, rather than waiting for his escort, he strolled on by, encouraging Emelie to follow with a cheeky slap to her perfectly formed behind. When she looked his way, Starborn merely grinned.

[Emelie Shadowstar]

A bemused smirk remained on her lips as she shook her head at Salvo, it held even as she turned to leave and caught the eye of one of the guards with her. The smile the man had told her that he had caught the little exchange and Emelie raised a finger and pointed at him before letting the cautioning "Don't..." slip from her lips, carrying the multitude of meanings along with it.

Back outside the sun was as unmerciful as ever and the moment she stepped outside a small groan of discomfort left her.

"Should have made this meeting at night..."

There were actually a lot of should have, could have thoughts that were beginning to form in her mind. But as Emelie looked back to Salvo she instantly was overridden by instinctual course of action... She walked up to him slowly, heels causing her hips to sway slightly, came to a stop just in front of him... and then came the slap that briefly drew the attention of those in the street.

"We are not taking another step until you tell me what the hell this was all about? You have some nerve! I haven't seen you in years and you call me to bail you out of some pihua, bai chi ..." The string of curses continued.

Her cheeks flushing slightly as she let out the anger that had been bottled up at him since the night before while attempting to keep her hangover from bringing it to a halt.

[Salvo Starborn]

The barest hint of a smile threatened to twitch the corner of Salvo's lips, as he stared back into the face of her tantrum. As her words collapsed into the musical spacer slang she'd picked up in stars knew what arse-end of the galaxy, the smile won the war against his vain attempts to keep a straight sabacc face. There might have been something terrifying about her, if he hadn't known – from first hand experience – what anger like this so often degenerated into. The fact that his face stung was just more confirmation of how passionately she felt. Sidling a step closer, he cocked his chin at her.

“You miss me, then, ey?”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Emelie's ranting stopped and she glared at him for a moment, eyes wanting to drill holes into his head. Her head was pounding all the more and the determined look of anger faded into a pout. As much as she wanted to hate him at that moment, that stupid grin was a welcome sight.

"no..."

Completely oblivious to the lingering gazes at the scene the two were making her arms suddenly were thrown around his shoulders and her lips pressed to his in an overly passionate kiss that entirely conflicted her own words. Yes you stupid piece of space trash, I did miss you... And then a giant speeder wreck happened in her head and she quickly pulled away, her hand hitting his cheek again with another slap.

"For frak's sake, Sal... I have a boyfriend now."

[Salvo Starborn]

At first, all that confession got was a laugh – but when the frown and pout still clung to her lips, all stern-like, Starborn wondered if she might actually be serious. A girl like Em Shadowstar didn't go without company for long, but he'd never known her to be a one man kind of woman. A life of crime - tearing from one end of the galaxy to another with the law on your rear thrusters - didn't exactly form the most solid foundation for a relationship. For Sal, who was starting to feel the heat inside his skin-tight onesie, the matter of who Emelie was or wasn't seeing was essentially a non-issue.

He pressed one palm to the small of her back, giving her bodyguards a glance as he did so. “Where's the ship? An' please tell me you've got an 'ydroshower.”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Yeah, it's got one..."

Her head nodded back towards the direction of the starport lazily before she began walking towards the same way. A glance back was given to Salvo, then to each of the guards as she mentally made the note that there would probably have to be some sort of credits exchange with those two so they didn't start speaking up about what had just happened. Not that she couldn't put a quick end to any rumors they started either... funny how people could just go missing sometimes.

Emelie slowed her steps slightly so that Salvo was at her side and she cast him a rather mean smile.

"You know, it is horribly tempting to make you stay in that suit for a few hours more. Might be entertaining enough to cut off some of the credits you owe me now."

[Salvo Starborn]

As he fell in-step alongside her, Sal threw an arm around Emelie's shoulders.

“Enjoyin' the view?”

He nodded down at himself and gave her a wink, shameless to the point of offence. The skin-tight suit was not designed to be aesthetically pleasing, especially not a frame that was broader than the average Twi'lek's. It left little to the imagination and although Salvo Starborn had a big mouth on him, he wasn't all talk, a fact which the woman presently at his side could attest to.

“You know am good for the credits anyway, righ'? Once a get back on me feet an' aw that.”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"I would certainly hope so. I'd hate to have to take it out of you in other ways."

As they continued to walk she eyed him toyingly. Salvo was another one of those that brought out the playful banter in her. Not that it was necessarily a difficult thing upon first meeting with anyone, but to be able to keep that sort of thing up over a few years, now that was where a select few were very different than a great many.

"Of course, I find it very hard to bring myself to start destroying things that I know are better left in tact..."

The hinting of a smirk tugged at her lips again. There was a moment of silence, just long enough to let the thought sink in before she rather offhandedly, yet somehow viciously delivered the last bit.

"Even if even in pristine condition are they barely rank above your average exogorth dren."

The cruelty was instantly dropped with a playful shove with her elbow.

"C'mon. Let's make you look like a normal person and then we can start talking about how you're going to make me my credits back."

Another short pause came to her as a thought popped in her head. Probably not the best idea... but it would help kill the hangover.

"I think I have a bottle of Membrosia on board that I've been meaning to crack open... you game?"

[Salvo Starborn]

“A'ways, babe. A'ways.”

When they reached her yacht, Salvo gave the Baudo-class a look over. It was a classy piece of metal and a step up from the YT models he'd been used to flying.

“You buy this all yersel'?”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Emelie glanced up, just enough for the harsh sunlight to reflect off the ship and catch her eyes before she let a small pained groan leave her lips as she looked back down, eying Salvo from beneath the large brim of the hat she wore.

"Since when do I need help from anyone to get what I want?"

Despite the temporary feeling like the best thing in the world would be to go lay down somewhere cool, Emelie managed another playful smile.

The instant change in temperature when she boarded the yacht was welcoming, even if they entered into one of the garage areas where a speeder was kept. The walk into the lounge area was quick, and the instant dimming in light made the room almost seem as if it was pitch black before her eyes adjusted. A large couch was found quickly enough and she dropped herself into it, rubbing at her temples.

"Stairs to the second level are up on the left, two refreshers are up there, you should be able to snag one of the showers for a bit..."

The look Emelie gave to Salvo was toying, and answered the question of if she'd be joining him with one swift negative. One of the men who had been acting as her bodyguard on the planet received a look as well, though not quite as flirtatious, more to silently tell that they were to keep an eye on Salvo until he reached his destination, to keep him from wandering too much.

"One of the crew should be able to give you something a bit more comfortable to wear. I'll be down here when you're done. Then we'll hit the bar."

[Salvo Starborn]

There couldn't have been much, within the realms of human imagination, that would have been less comfortable than the body-glove Salvo was currently filling out. By the time he had extracted himself from the skin-tight fabric – the lycra snapping painfully against his sun-burnt flesh and eliciting a groan on more than one occasion – he was in a foul mood. An ice-cold shower went some-way to soothing both his temper and the after-affects of time spent in the glare of Ryloth's sun.

There was a pair of dress trousers and a pressed shirt waiting for him when he stepped out of the shower. Again, it was an outfit tailored for a slimmer man. Sal rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and left the collar undone. There was something in one of the trouser pockets: a packet of death-sticks. Smiling at the unexpected find, Starborn patted the other pocket and found a lighter. Perhaps the closer had been made for him after all. He waited until he was in the hallway before lighting up, the first drag from the 'stim like a little breath of heaven.

Emelie was just as he'd left her, though she'd shed the wide-brimmed hat.

“Nice gear,” he tugged at the shirt. “Wha's this 'bout a bar, then?”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

The sight of Salvo in what most would consider nice attire amused her perhaps more than the little number the Twi'leks had tossed him in. Emelie half wondered if perhaps that was the first pair of slacks the boy had ever worn. He looked good in them though... damn good.

Frak's sake, get a hold of yourself.

Her head shook slightly, chasing away the odd persistent memory, reminding herself that she was, after all, supposed to be rather unhappy with him at the moment. Pirate... yep, that was all it took to remind herself of that. Yet there Salvo still was, still taking a drag off that damn stick and looking like he hadn't probably just experienced the worst day he'd had in a long damn time. All the rationalizations were starting to make her head hurt. Or maybe that was just the hangover. Either way: only one cure.

Emelie got to her feet slowly, gently rolling her head to try and relieve some of the tension in her neck, her hand came to gentle kneed at the particularly irritated muscle as she began to walk away from the large plush couch she had been sitting on.

"Yeah, it's over here. Huge ship like this has it's benefits..."

They passed a few closed doors, Emelie knew one lead to the swimming pool that was installed that the very concept of made her laugh - pool in space, who would have ever thought that would work. Another door was to the shooting range, that just seemed wrong until you realized that standard blaster bolts had really no chance of penetrating the ship's hull. A few more doors lead to various bedrooms of all kinds. Finally she came to the one she wanted, pressing the panel to let the door slide open to reveal a fully stocked bar that even had a sabacc table and a full size billiards table as well. Home away from home, sure beat the dren out of the little A-Wing she'd been flying about for the better part of her days.

Only thing that was missing was a bar tender, which Emelie quickly righted by taking up residence behind the counter, already mixing herself a concoction she knew damn well would take the edge off what she was feeling.

"You better tell me what you want or you'll end up with a drink that'll put you on your ass and tear a hole in your stomach on the ride in."

Only a hint of the joking nature came through, she'd lighten up again later. That friendly nudge of a reminder of what Salvo had become, what he very well still might have been was just a bit too fresh.

[Salvo Starborn]

As he passed by each closed door, Salvo felt the innate and near irresistable urge to push it open and see what was inside. There was something about a closed (and particularly a locked) door that called to him – but he kept on walking, a half-step behind Em as she lead the way into the ship's bar.

It was exactly what he had expected, the shelves like the display cabinet of the worlds most indecisive alcoholic. Em was right at home behind the counter. She mixed her drink like a pro, with the precision of a woman who needed her own personal bartender to make sure that every measure was just right.

“Wha'ever you're 'avin's sounds good t'me.”

Sal grinned. Back in the old days, they'd made a habit – and a game – of trying to match each other drink for drink. It was a game where, in the end, they were both winners.

[Emelie Shadowstar]

A small flash of light emanated from the glass as she mixed in the final liquor to the cocktail. It lit up the room briefly in a brilliant green before extinguishing itself just as fast as it had appeared.

"You sure about that?"

Emelie grinned in a way that was purely wicked, and not entirely friendly before she took a test sip of the alcohol that was slowly shifting from a deep emerald to a light teal color. Her eyes widened for a moment and she looked at the drink accusingly before shrugging her shoulders and took another taste test of it.

She placed the glass back down on the bar top and uncorked another bottle and added in a dash of some unlabeled clear liquid.

"I mean, mixing such a strong drink with damn near heat stroke... that can't be a smart combo. Might kill a man."

As she let the grin on her lips spread she nudged the glass towards Salvo with a single fingertip.

[Salvo Starborn]

“Smart?” His brow wrinkled, then he grinned. “Sweethear', you know me better than tha'. Way I see it, I've earned this.”

Without even a hint of hesitation, Salvo took a sip of the volatile green liquid. What he had earned, apparently, was the feeling of being punched in the gut. It wasn't quite enough to bring tears to his eyes but he was in no rush to go back for seconds. Licking his lips, Salvo gave his stomach the chance to adjust to the lethal concoction now sloshing about inside of it. He pressed his fist to his lips and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Look... 'bout them tail-'eads, Em. Thing is, one of 'ems got 'is noodles in a twist 'bout me, see. Thinks I nicked a ship-load'a slaves from 'im...”

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Her own consumption of the drink was far less violent and in fact she looked fairly indifferent to it's punch. It was with a similar demeanor that she assessed what Sal had said.

Another small, almost delicate sip of the drink was taken before she narrowed her eyes on him.

"Well... did you?"

[Salvo Starborn]

"Course I did but tha's beside the point. Mug should'a kept a better 'old on 'is gear." Leaning his hip against the bar, Salvo shrugged one shoulder and chanced another drink, deciding that the buzz would eventually have to outweigh the gurgling in the pit of his stomach. “Point is, 'e thinks I'm workin' on me tan in the Bright Lands right now. Getting' the jump on 'im's gonna be a piece a' rhyscate.”