One's Not Enough

[Jamo Jakatta]

Two sudden flashes of light lit up the starry sky, as a pair of starfighters exited hyperspace. In the cockpit of the first X-Wing to appear, Jamo Jakatta quickly tapped at the controls of his ships sensors. From their base within the convoy known as the Wheel, they had jumped into territory that was a little beyond their usual patrol. The scanners took a moment to recalibrate and compensate for their new surroundings, but within seconds a blip appeared on the short-range radar.

“We have one ship, origin unknown.”

His voice crackled across the communication channel to his flight-mate, the two of them urging their astromech unit's to get a better reading on what they were looking at. Jakatta's droid gave a shrill whistle, then flashed up something on his display screen.

“...aaaaand we have ID.” With the flick of a switch, Jamo opened his comms to the starship that was drifting ponderously in space, within visual range. “Shuttle, this is Rogue Nine, do you copy? Repeat, this is Rogue Nine, ready to receive special delivery.”

[Iyar Thiled]

There was no shortness on the amount of friendly teasing Flipper had been tossing at Joker since they'd set out, so there surely was no surprised that on their closed channel he quickly responded with a: "Don't sound so eager over there. Special delivery indeed."

Yeah it was cheesy and a weak veiled innuendo but you could only be really clever so many times in a day. Besides... Joker had left himself open on that one.

[Jamo Jakatta]

Jamo thumbed the comms to Rogue Squadron's frequency and announced, in a voice as officious as the one he'd hailed the shuttle with: “Kiss my cargohold, Rogue Ten. Repeat, kiss my cargohold.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

"Or perhaps you two Rogues could escort me back to the barn and do your jobs," came Grace's voice over the comm link, cold and impersonal as ever. "The Jedi are expecting me and I'm not going to be late. Upload the coordinates to my ship and we'll be off."

The link was cut off before any responses could be heard, but Van-Derveld didn't give a wampas' furry ass, especially since it was Jakatta's voice in one of those two 'wings. She was hoping it would be a long time in seeing that man again but fate would have it otherwise - as usual with her luck.

Burning the sub-lights at full speed, she wanted to put a good distance from them - the equivalent of the cold shoulder, so to speak.

[Jamo Jakatta]

It seemed like only a second passed between Jamo hitting the button to transmit the jump co-ordinates, and the Rebel shuttle vanishing into hyperspace.

“Well, best be off then, Flipper,” Jakatta parroted Grace Van-Derveld's stern way of speaking, though irritation bled into his voice. “We mustn't keep the Jedi waiting!”

Punching at the controls of his X-Wing, he threw the starfighter out of realspace. The shift from the darkness of space to the psychadelic throb of hyperspace was jarring, though fortunately their transit time to the Wheel was only a matter of minutes. When they rejoined the convoy, Jakatta saw that the Intel Director's shuttle was already heading towards the lumbering Whaladon. The idea had been that they would escort it into dock, but apparently Grace didn't see the need for the precaution. Regardless, Jamo throttled his X-Wing into line with her craft, the starfighters engines making catch up easy.

“Receiving docking vectors...” he said, again relaying the data passed onto him from the navigators of the Whaladon to his his wing-mate and their cargo.

[Daria Nytherciria]

“Master Jedi, we have confirmation from Rogue Squadron that Director Van-Derveld is en route. The Director is due to dock in.. hangar bay three in ten minutes.”

Rising to her feet, Daria Nytherciria gave the young Alliance crewman a nod. The boy – and that was what he was, barely out of his teens – had been diligent, if somewhat zealous, in his reports regarding the Director's progress from check-point to check-point. Her meeting with Rogue Squadron had been the last point of rendezvous.

“I'll welcome Director Van-Derveld aboard myself.” Before any protest could be made, she held up a hand. “No escort will be necessary.”

In spite of his disappointment, the crewman gave a salute and watched as the Jedi left. It had been some time since she had last encountered the woman she was about to meet and some small part of her wondered if Grace hadn't come to bring back Wyl Staedtler, the boy she had charged Daria with protecting so many moons ago. In truth, she knew that this was not the cause of the Director's visit, but the small flicker of hope remained as she stood waiting in almost empty hangar bay.

[Iyar Thiled]

Everyone had to be such killjoys lately. Sure it was for reasons Iyar understood and, while maybe not relate to, it still was annoying as hell. Oh well, looked like today was going to be one of those: Do your job; ...things.

With Joker pulling up on one side of the shuttle, Flipper took the other. It was quickly decided to let Joker and the Director continue with their objection-specific talking and actually keep silent for once. At least, until they all had their feet on the deck of the Whaladon. Though even then Flipper would probably cast the occasional unsaid comment through facial expression alone about the whole situation, it couldn't be helped after all.

As the three ships passed through the magnetic field of the hangar bay and touched down Flipper couldn't help but wonder if he and Joker were expected to continue to escort the Director, or if they'd be there long enough to just make sure Van-Derveld met with the Jedi representative before they'd be off and about again. As much as the thought of quickly returning to flight was appealing, the Zeltron had to admit that continuing to act as the Director's escort would be equally as amusing. If for no other reason than it gave room to continue to watch Joker squirm a bit.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Powering down her ship and locking the console, Van-Derveld unclasped the chair restraints and exited the cockpit in a hurry. Black boots snapped on the durasteel floors, and the Director allowed the minimum wait time for exit ramp to touch down before departing. Behind the dark mirrorshades, her vision immediately locked onto an old associate - Daria Nytherciria. They had not seen each other face to face in a long time, not since young Wyl was brought into her custody by Grace and Dasquian.

She stopped within arms length of the Jedi and gave a crisp nod of respect, "Knight Nytherciria. It has been some time, and I am pleased to see you well."

As polite of a greeting as it was, Grace's voice was void of any warmth, "Thank you for meeting me."

[Daria Nytherciria]

Daria offered a nod of her own. “Agent Van-Derveld, welcome. I hope your journey here passed without incident.”

If, by some leap of logic, anyone watching the pair had expected a smiling reunion, they were sadly mistaken. Any further welcome on the part of the Jedi Knight was delayed a moment longer as she, covertly, studied the woman stood before her. The change in Grace Van-Derveld's aura was marked, though Daria knew this was neither the time nor the place to discuss such things. She gave the two starfighter pilots only a passing glance before refocusing on the Director of Alliance Intelligence.

“Shall we proceed to somewhere more suitable and begin our discussions?”

[Jamo Jakatta]

With his helmet left behind in Rogue Nine's cockpit, Jamo stood otherwise in full flight orange at a few paces behind and to the left of Grace, whilst Iyar took up a similar position on the right. His wrists crossed behind his back, Jakatta watched the interchange for a moment before his eyes began to drift down the shapely length of the Director's body. When he saw – or thought he saw – the blind Jedi looking his way, Jamo shifted his attention to his wingmate and - fighting a smirk - gave a discreet shrug.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She nodded crisply, "Yes. It was. I know I set off a few alarms coming unannounced, but I rather error on the side of caution."

Grace could feel eyes on her and she knew exactly who's they belonged to. It didn't illicit an outward response, Grace was ever cool and reserved, but if they ever have the opportunity to be alone - someone was ending up in the medbay.

"That is agreeable. Please lead the way."

[Daria Nytherciria]

“Good. Gentlemen,” she looked to the two pilots, “Thank you for your assistance. You are welcome aboard the Whaladon, and we will call upon you if and when your services are necessary.”

The implication that the two men should remain behind, or at least should not follow, was clear. Without further delay, Daria and Grace departed from the hangar bay and moved through quiet corridors towards the nearest secure meeting room.

The Whaladon was a cargo hauler by design, so it lacked the sleek, polished conference rooms aboard some Alliance vessels. The old quartermaster's office had become their briefing room. In one corner, there were still boxes of star-charts and supply orders that the Alliance had yet to transfer to an active-duty vessel. A table and four chairs had somehow been squeezed in amongst it all. Daria perched on the edge of the table, threading her arms across her chest.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Without the escort following them, the Director's shoulders visibly relaxed and the two of them walked stoically together, Grace just a step to the left and back as the Jedi led the way.

Upon entering the meeting room, Grace looked around the accommodations but didn't comment. She had been in worse locations to be briefed or hold a meeting of her own. The most repulsive by far was a Rodian bath house lavatory ...

As the Jedi did not sit, the Rebel chose to stand at ease, arms behind her back, "Thank you for allowing to see me on short notice."

As gruff as she was, Grace still had manners and much respect for the Jedi. Especially this one. It felt like a lifetime ago when she and Dasquian had to practically blackmail Daria into protecting young Wyl. The thought saddened her for it evoked memories of her late partner and the guilt she harbored in sleeping with Jamo, but her face betrayed nothing.

[Daria Nytherciria]

“No, thank you for coming, Agent.”

Although the Alliance crew men and women aboard the Wheel went through periods of prolonged inactivity, Daria knew from her few encounters with Alliance Intelligence that field spies such as Grace Van-Derveld rarely had a free day in their schedule. Nevertheless, a memory of times gone by compelled Daria to add at least a small personal note to their conversation, before they got onto the meat of the matter.

“I heard about Agent Belargic, on the holo. My condolences to you and your colleagues.”

Grace didn't react, but Daria had expected nothing from her. Absently brushing her fingertips against her upper-arms, she drew in a quick breath and tried to decide how best to proceed.

“I'm not aware.. exactly how much you were appraised of, before arriving here. Have you had time to look at any reports on the current state of the fledgling Jedi Order and this.. Wheel we are all travelling aboard?”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The condolences stacked up over the months about Dasquian's death had finally numbed her ears. It was just a footnote during the course of the conversation as she was concerned. There was nothing left inside her to care.

As Daria continued, Grace shrugged and pursed her lips. "Your numbers are growing at a trickling rate, but it is growing. You are internally organizing and helping to ease the newer members into life aboard the Wheel. However, supplies are an increasing issue as is protection."

A hand appeared in front of her and casually waved across the scene before her, "This situation is highly unstable. If the Empire were to learn of your location, the chances of survival are minimal."

[Daria Nytherciria]

It was a grim assessment, but a truthfully one nonetheless. “Correct,” she nodded. “We have been fortunate enough to receive the support of Rogue Squadron, however our... fleet, if it may be called that, is largely composed of starships that are ill-equipped to defend themselves. We have gladly taken what the Alliance has provided, and we are not without thanks, but at present we are... as the saying goes... sitting mynocks.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace quirked a brow at that and crossed her arms. She wasn't meaning to come off threatening, but sometimes even the Director was unconscious of how unfriendly her presence could take in but a moment. "Then what is it you are asking of me?"

It was clear that Daria was asking for some sort of assistance, but it what it was, she was having difficulty to predict. Supplies for the Jedi movement was a heavy handed comment. It could mean, literally, anything at this point in their chances for survival.

[Daria Nytherciria]

For Daria – who saw Grace's moods more in the fluctuating patterns of energy that surrounded her than in the shifts in her body language – the Director's current disposition was... difficult to determine.

“An indication, if it within your authority, as to whether we can expect any further military assistance. It would be presumptuous to think that we are the Alliance's foremost concern – I understand that is not the case – but the Jedi are akin to.. a species on the brink of extinction. One ill-placed assault by the Empire and all that is left of our kind will be wiped from the face of the Galaxy.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

This meeting was bizarre to a degree for the Director. The last time Grace had any lengthy discussion with Daria, the Jedi was hesitant about doing anything that might ensure the survival of her order. And now here she was pleading the case for their very existence and how it hung in the balance depending on the will of the Rebellion.

"To be frank, Daria ..." Grace sighed heavily and shook her head, "I may be the Director of Intelligence but that is based upon that my best friend was killed in action and they have no one as suicidal as myself to take up the position. The Advisory Council tolerates my presence and are barely willing to even acknowledge I exist. I am not sure what I could possibly do to convince them otherwise, though I sympathize with your plight."

[Daria Nytherciria]

Although their involvement with the Rebel Alliance had deepened since the formation of the Wheel, there was a great deal of the politics of the Rebellion that the Jedi had little to do with. Daria hoped that fact would remain truth for a long time to come, as entangling the will of the Force with the decrees of a democratic government was practically a speeder-crash waiting to happen.

“I see.”

Daria drew in a calming breath, then gave a faint nod.

“Then perhaps you can be of assistance in some other way... by facilitating a meeting between the Jedi Council and your Advisory Council.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She nodded, her head slowly bobbing to a standstill after considering the request. "I believe that could be arranged. Speaking to the new Council won't cause any unforeseen strokes as it would asking for another ship or two."

A certain vocal Bothan came to mind as she said that.

"I will see what I can do." She stood up straighter and allowed her hands to dangle at her sides once more, obviously more relaxed, "Just give me a few days since there are special channels I must use to contact them."

[Daria Nytherciria]

“Of course.”

The mere fact that Grace was willing to entertain the request was enough for Daria. It was clear that the Director was a woman of significant concerns and anxieties, suicidal by her own admission. There were other avenues that the Jedi could have approached the Alliance through, other contacts whom they utilised, but her brief experiences with Grace Van-Derveld had left an impact on the the Jedi Knight. She was a persistent woman, doggedly determined to do what needed to be done. After all, she had even managed to convince Daria – at the time, a life-long hermit and fugitive – to stop running and start realising her potential.

“Our... fleet is, of course, at your disposal. I am told that our communications technicians are experts in coded transmissions - though, regretably the same praise cannot be given to our cooks,” she added, venturing a small smile.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

That elicited a small chuckle that was quietly quelled as quickly as it came. "At least I will be reminded of the fleet back at home one."

If maintaining their numbers and secrecy wasn't their top priority next to freeing the galaxy of the tyranny of the Empire, finding good cooks was always at the top of the list.

"And I promise you this, one way or another, I will get that meeting sanctioned." There was a hint of threatening authority behind Grace's voice as the Director then nodded respectfully. "Until next time Jedi Nytherciria."

[Daria Nytherciria]

“What is it they say? An army marches on its stomach.”

Her smile widened for an instant, as Grace allowed herself a moment of laughter, though it really was little more than a moment. The Director's next words might as well have been accompanied by a salute, for all the crisp finality they carried with them. It had been a brief meeting, but as ever neither woman had the time to spare on lengthy discussions.

“Until we meet again,” Daria agreed. “May the Force be with you, Agent Van-Derveld.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

"Likewise," she said, and it was not said sarcastically. As much as Grace held little faith in an unseen energy field controlling the fate of all living creatures in the universe, there was no mistaking the power that the Jedi wielded. Though few in numbers, they were a powerful entity that could help the Rebellion bring true order back into the galaxy. They just needed time and resources.

She would keep her promise and ensure that meeting. Many lives were relying on it.

Departing the cramped room, the Director downloaded the schematics of the ship onto her datapad and had the location of her personal effects and which quarters had been assigned to her. Also of note was the location of the communications room. That was her next stop.

[Jamo Jakatta]

With his first and foremost duty of the day done, Jamo had returned to the docket of tasks that kept Rogue Squadron busy. When they were flying a combat air patrol or running training drills, there were recon missions to complete and findings to report. Given that the Whaladon was the most vulnerable in the Wheel, it came high on the list of ships to be appraised of the Rogue's recon reports.

Jamo stood alongside one of the painfully green communications technicians, who was trying to synchronise a datapad he had just been handed with his own computer terminal. Arms folded over his chest, Lt. Jakatta lounged back against the terminal and peered across the room at the holographic star-chart which depicted their current location in space, opting for a game of 'spot the constellation' whilst he waited for the hand-over to be completed.

The whirr and hum of equipment did not hide the sound of footsteps entering the room. Jamo looked lazily over his shoulder, and made a show of standing to attention when he saw the Director of Alliance Intelligence in the doorway.

“Ma'am.”

With his back to the technician, Joker allowed himself a distinctly improper smile.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The universe was playing a joke on Grace and it came in the form of Jamo Jakatta. The expansive freighter that was the Whaladon where hundreds of beings called home or duty, she had to find the one room with the one man she was trying to avoid.

Because of his over play of showing her respect of rank, almost every eye briefly turned towards her. Without batting an eye, she gave a curt nod and responded in kind, "Lieutenant."

Heel against the floor, she found a comm spec who was free and gave him details of the transmission that was required. As young fingers worked diligently to encode the message, Grace slightly bent over the console so she could keep a close watch over his work. The Imperials must not be able to slice this message and trace its origins. With such close proximity to the infamous Director, the poor tech was glad that his eye popping, unblinking stare could not be seen by her at this angle.

[Jamo Jakatta]

Jamo remained stood at attention until Grace turned her back on him. He could practically hear the sweat rushing off of the technician, like the waterfalls of Ithor. His hands trembled as fingertips rattled over the console keyboard, but even under pressure he didn't make a single mistake; Jamo was impressed. Not quite as impressed as he was with the view of Grace bent over the computer terminal, however. He crossed his arms over his chest and forced a neutral expression onto his face.

“Director.. a minute of your time, if you will?”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She did not miss a moment in replying. "I have none to spare."

The technician audibly gasped at how curt Grace was with the Rogue Pilot, but with one drum of the Director's fingers on top of the console, he quickly got back to work. And Grace continued to ignore Jamo.

[Jamo Jakatta]

Jamo nodded to himself, his brow knitting into a concerned frown in an effort to smother the grin that wanted to crack onto his lips.

“It won't take long, ma'am. Just a quickie.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

It was clear that Jamo would continue this subtle verbal spar until he incited the reaction he wanted from Grace. This was unacceptable.

"Fine." She straightened up and tugged her jacket taut before pivoting around. Brown eyes wanted to shoot him dead, but the pleasant hand extending towards the exit and the smooth voice masked her anger before the crowd around them. "If you would ..."

[Jamo Jakatta]

The technician glanced up, uncertain and expectant. “Keep at it, Ensign,” Jamo said with a wink, pointing finger and thumb at the youth in a mime of a blaster. That earned him a puzzled, verging upon terrified, grin which was soon buried in the familiar comfort of the computer console.

As he lead the way out into the narrow corridor beyond the communications rooms, Jamo spun so that he was walking backwards, both away from and leading Grace. “So, how long're you on board?”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Hands behind her back, Grace walked with the crisp air of rank and control as boots hit the floor in precision and time. Fortunately for Jamo, these hallways were well traveled so the Director remained cordial.

"That remains uncertain."

[Jamo Jakatta]

“Indefinitely?” Jamo's eyebrows shot upwards. He slowed his pace so that he fell in-step with Grace, face-forward, though his Corellian swagger didn't exactly mirror her martial stalk.

“Was thinkin' we had some catching up to do.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Of same thought, but not of same mind, Grace broke her gaze and looked at Jamo with a predatory gaze. Knowing the Rogue, he would take the gesture conveying one meaning, that they had finally come to the same page.

"Strange," she said and her face was an unreadable mask once more, "I was thinking exactly the same thing."

[Jamo Jakatta]

Brazen as ever, Jakatta slung an arm around Grace's waist and moved to pull her closer.

“There's a maintenance closet just down the hall.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Her first name had always been chosen well. She was a natural on her feet in any form - whether it was pretending to be some debutante at a formal ball or locked in a hand to hand death match, the Director held a measure of grace about her.

It was why Jamo never saw it coming. Grace had spun out of the lazy arm that wanted pulled her closer and twisted it for starters. Then the brash Rogue found himself face planted against the wall with little room to maneuver.

Pressed against his back, Grace grabbed him by the hair and hissed into his ear. "I warned you."

His head bounced against the bulkhead before letting him go before walking back towards the communications room. At least she had her past in her favor for once, as Grace was notorious for making examples out of those that have made a pass at her. This incident would just fall into that category once again ...

[Jamo Jakatta]

Jamo hissed a breath through clenched teeth, and quickly cupped a hand to his nose. Relief washed over him as he lifted his fingers away without a trace of blood, though the bridge of his noise stung like a bitch. Stars were just about twirling before his eyes as he watched Grace's stiff-limbed departure.

“You changed your frakkin' tune, Van-Derveld.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She sighed and looked around to find that, at the moment, they were alone. For how long remain uncertain, but it would be enough to reinforce the reminder that Grace demonstrated a second ago.

The Director halted and then stalked towards Jamo until she was more then an arms length of distance between them. "Incorrect. You did, and I did warn you what would happen if you presented yourself inappropriately towards me in public."

[Jamo Jakatta]

Like a dog that had just been swatted on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper, Jamo looked equal parts confused and offended. Blinking, he shook off the expression with a mental shrug.

“What's public about an empty corridor?”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

As if on cue, a group of technicians passed through with several R2 units trailing closely behind. Grace followed them out of the corner of her eye until they disappeared around the bend. Then her attention was upon Jamo like a Farlus hawk of Alsakan, ready to tear its prey apart with sharp talons and a razor sharp beak. She didn't have to say anything in retort, her expression said it all.

[Jamo Jakatta]

The whirr of the R2 units could still be heard as Jamo threw his hands up in the hair, as if to say: all-right, you win. His shoulders sagged as he looked off in the direction the technicians had been headed, then swung his eyes back to Grace's murderous gaze.

“Alright – so let's.. go somewhere private.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The moment was intense as Jamo's eager eyes were still overshadowed by death staring back at him. It was impossible to discern what Grace's intentions were but there was something peculating inside the Director. Her anger at his juvenile antics still threatened to break something of his but it felt the same as it did on Yavin. Raw emotions were still emotions for Grace. At least she was able to feel and hadn't been completely decimated by the loss of Dasquian.

She relented. "Fine," was all Grace had to say and waited. If this would allow her to feel human again then what was there to loose?

[Jamo Jakatta]

Five minutes later, there was a broom handle sticking into Jamo's spine. He reached behind himself, fumbling until he'd knocked the broom over, and within seconds his back was slammed against the maintenance cupboard wall by the always-surprising strength of Grace Van-Derveld. Her hands were tangled in the straps of his flight-suit. “I was beginning think you weren't coming back,” he managed, through a breathless smile, though the Director soon shut him up with a kiss.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Jamo talked far too much. It was clear they only wanted one thing, so his banter was unnecessary. With his mouth occupied, Grace in all her haste was having difficulties with the flight suit. They served their purpose in flight, but now it was cumbersome hindrance getting in the way. She fought ripping the straps off the life support box, but Jamo's salary would take a hard hit if the equipment was suddenly damaged.

He tried to gain the upper hand but Grace kept him firmly planted against the cupboard as success was achieved. The greys fastens were unclipped and the equipment fell to the ground, and not once did the Director loose the lock upon the Rogue's lips.

[Jamo Jakatta]

It was an hour later before a jelly-legged Jamo Jakatta was released by Grace Van-Derveld, and allowed to come up for air. With his flight-suit around his ankles, his sweat-slick back stuck to the wall behind him as he sagged under the weight of his own exhaustion. He grinned in spite of it, euphoric. Grace was already buttoning up her shirt and smoothing her tousled her into place.

“Talk about.. a workout.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The act was nothing more then a ritual to Grace. It relieved tension and stress that was better to be explored in a fashion that was mutually agreeable instead of it affecting her work. Control was all that mattered. It sustained her. Aggression would be contained through the most primal of acts.

Combing her hair out, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothing without comment. The hour shared between them had seemingly left an impression on Jamo. Grace could care less.

"I will leave first, and you should stay here for at least five minutes to avoid suspicions."

[Jamo Jakatta]

“Sure, how about tomorrow-”

The door to the closet slammed and Jamo looked up, midway through zipping himself back into his flight-suit, to see that Grace had gone. He waited his five minutes then slipped out into the hallway, which was as empty as before. Somehow, swaggering without an audience just wasn't as satisfying. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he made his way back through the corridors towards the hangar where he'd left Iyar talking to some tech crew that he seemed to know from somewhere. Either that, or it was just the usual Zeltron gift of the gab.

“Iyar,” he called out, jerking a thumb towards their X-Wings. “We're good to go.”

[Iyar Thiled]

A quick wave of so-long was given to the techs. Good guys, apparently ones that actually respected the Rogues and the fact they helped keep The Wheel safe. Of course, they were more interested in hearing stories of That one time on Zeltros but Iyar didn't mind that sort of thing.

Speaking of that kind of thing...

"You know, you could at least try and wipe that smile off your face." He didn't mean a word of it. "I'd ask where the hell you've been but I mean, sheesh, it's like oozing off you."

To emphasize the point Flipper wiggled his fingers and made a face as if Joker was covered with some sort of horrid substance. Of course it was quickly followed by the grin of a knowing smile.

"So tell me, just how is the good lady Director doing?"

[Jamo Jakatta]

They talked as they walked, putting distance between themselves and the techs. Jamo gave Iyar an elbow in the side as an answer to his question.

“I though you weren't using that whole.. empath thing on me any-more, huh?” In spite of the tone in his voice, it was clear he was fighting a grin.

[Iyar Thiled]

"Me? Use it on you? I wouldn't dare!" Iyar almost even managed to make himself sound shocked and appalled at the very thought, with a healthy dose of sarcasm added in for taste, naturally.

"To my credit, It's not like I really had to. You have a terrible poker face."

[Jamo Jakatta]

Jamo came to a halt beside the ladder that lead up to his 'fighters cockpit. He laid a hand on one of the rungs and glanced back at Iyar.

“Sometimes the galaxy deals you a hand that you can't help but grin at.”