9.099 - They're Only Called Hookers When They're Dead!

[Sanis Prent]

The Pleasure Cruiser Morning Star, midway between Tattooine and Zeltros


This was the best prison sentence I'd ever served. Once I'd properly acclimated myself to it, that was. Sasseeri Reeouurra was a stone-cold bitch, and I still half expected any day to catch a blaster bolt in the ear for my trouble. That being said, as long as you accepted the fact that you could die at any moment and that you were only allowed to travel where instructed, you were treated pretty damn good. No, not pretty damn good. Damn good! Ridiculously damn good! Oh my God!

For one, an associate of Vigo Sasseeri Reeouurra had to look the part. That meant that half of your time was spent being massaged, coiffed, manicured, and generally highly maintained as eye candy. I won't lie, there are probably some guys (somewhere?) that are better looking than I am. But can those guys skin a blaster this fast? Or fly a ship this well? Shit no. I am form and function, baby!

Now, only so much of my appearance can be attributed to my own good genes and exfoliating masques. The other half of the equation involves a dizzying wardrobe of fashions fresh from Coruscant and Naboo. Ithorian silk, Dantooinian leather, to name a few. Even in my best days at skippering Layla independently, I never so much as sniffed half the credits required to buy these clothes. The man-hours required with my Neimoidian tailor alone were enough to nearly qualify as a part time job. Certainly should count as employment if you count the number of times my balls were incidentally touched when taking measurements.

It had been a month of crash courses in high elite fashion, and I'd taken to it like a gungan to water. Caridan cuffs, a Kursh collar creased precisely to allow 2.1 inches of lapel at the widest point. The shoes were an Ithorian toe loafer with a half inch sole. The patina was a little glossy for me, but the Ithorian cobbler insisted on nothing less for wearing aboard a starship. Yes, there were entirely different sheens of leather intended for wearing on a ship as opposed to wearing planetside. Who knew shit like this? I did, now!

Of course, sometimes those Ithorian shoes wind up underneath your overstuffed antigravity couch, and your Kursh collar jacket lands in a heap next to an obscenely expensive Alderaanian rug atop a half dozen spent bottles of Chandrilan champagne.




I woke up a stranger in a strange land. There was alcohol involved, sure. I rememeber that vaguely. I had no pants or underwear on, but a delightfully overknit towel with the pleasure cruiser's crest was cinched carefully around my waist. An unlit stim was cemented to my lower lip by trace amounts of saliva, and some woman's bra hung around my neck like a lei.

And was that an Ewok splayed across the coffee table like roadkill?

The worst part about it? Or the best part? I was hardly surprised by any of this.

I stepped over the fallen bodies of two of my partners in crime, and shambled over to the wall comm. Slapping it carelessly, I gruffed when the voice chimed in on the other side.

"Room service, please."

[Adjerban the Interloper]

I had gotten too much blood in my alcohol system. I’d also had too many uppers, downers, zips, zaps, zoops and probably a deathstick or eight. I crawled with a groan. Light was cruel as it filtered across my face through a gap in the curtains.

“Ffffff… fuuccckkkk.” I managed. It had been something like 20 years since I’d last gone on a bender this mad. I needed some mato and some vodka and something green and stringy and crunchy. I needed a Bloody Maren. Given the merciful state of the fridge, which was closed, this might remain a possibility. Any proper hotel filled one of the fridges with mixers. I pulled myself to my feet with the help of a chair, which I promptly stumbled and knocked over. I wobbled to the kitchen, and found the fridge with the side of my face. I took a deep breath and put myself into a lean on one side.

I opened the wrong fridge. A skirt and a thong fell out. They were of surprising size. Well, they were extraordinarily large. I shifted/stumbled to position myself to the next fridge, and pulled the door open. The door swung open, and my arm fell back by my side like dead weight. I grabbed the proper juices, the sauces, the proper vodka, and the proper garnish. Somehow I poured everything into the pitcher.

“"For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry god: Bloody Maren, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me now in the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. ” I clumsily found my teeth with the pitcher, and slowly positioned my lips to drink. Rust colored liquid framed my chin and ran into my chest.

“Oh gods.” I muttered, my eyes still shut.

[Sanis Prent]

I didn't intend on dallying while I waited for my ordered ala carte breakfast. Nuna eggs Delurense with a truffled custard and artisanal cured Surranara ham over crostinis with seasonal namana fruit, which had to be day-boated to ensure freshness. I didn't look to see how much, I just ordered it.

Padding into the restroom, I suddenly remembered we had a shower with real water! A comm frequency was written in lipstick on the mirror, giving me pause. Wait, what was I saying? I never call back, fuck that. I didn't even remember what happened last night, so there was no point in calling a number that, knowing my luck, was probably to a married woman anyway.

"Adjerban, exactly what happened last night?"

I knew I stepped over Xel on my way to the bathroom, but I wasn't shocked to see that. At least he had the common decency to not leak a small lagoon of vomit, so that was a plus.

Switching the water on, I waited for it to get steamy as I jumped into the shower, leaving my towel behind on the floor.

[Xel-Naga]

The low rumble of increasingly offensive Huttese swearing coming from the floor signaled the awakening of the Xel-Naga. The titan of a man rolled over on the floor, coming short of a full rotation as something pulled at his arm in the opposite direction. Opening his eyes was an act of god that took time and patience to peel them open, tearing through the grime that had crusted them shut. A set of binders held one of his arms attached to the leg of the table he was sleeping partially underneath. They were cheap, fake things and the strongest pull he could manage was just enough to snap the thing at it's chain.

Finally able to roll over, Xel tried again, finally getting on his back and then attempting to sit up. He managed it on the second try once the stars faded from smacking his head into the underside of the table on the first. His shirt was curiously missing, revealing several small burn marks all over his chest and back. Incidentally the marks were consistent with the burns created by overexposure to a shock prod.

Rather than stand, Xel opted instead to crawl across the floor to where the largest pile of discarded bottles covered the floor and started sifting through them trying to locate a bottle that was not empty. While Adjerban quaffed his antidote, Xel had every intention of fixing his hangover with more booze and trying to even out over the next couple of days. That would give him time to remember what the hell happened last night.

Sanis' call from the bathroom confirmed that the smuggler was around, which then begged the question as to whether Xel was suppose to be watching the man and whether or not this warranted a shot to the knee. Shit. Where was his blaster. He started to look around, but all the movement was making his head swim so he pulled himself up on the sofa and collapsed. The pink of his shaved skull bouncing off a bottle and the subsequent moan was followed by the sound of a bottle flying across the room and bouncing off the wall.

"My butt hurts..."

[Adjerban the Interloper]

I gave two single finger answers to the question with one hand: one was a request for more time, and the other was a simple instruction. The other was preoccupied with my current savior. My eyes were still shut. Most of the mixed drink was making it down into my gut, although some was being an uncooperative pain in the ass and continued to make it's way down my bare chest toward my underwear. There was no way I was going to button up this shirt. It wasn't like I was capable of fineness at the moment.

If I waited a few moments, it was possible I might get drunk enough again to wash the hangover away. Hahahahah, who am I kidding. I could hear Prent's breathing pan around the room, and then the oversized Xel threw a bottle, which harmlessly bounced off the wall.

I finished most of the pitcher, and slowly opened my eyes.

"You better have ordered breakfast for everyone, you miserable son-of-a-Hutt. I will summon demons from each of the seven hells to fuck you if you didn't." It was clear that I was avoiding the question. Maybe what I was really avoiding was the answer.

My normally sharp mind had been shattered last night, and I doubted any of us had a coherent picture of what happened. I put the pitcher down on the counter and turned slowly to survey the damage.

There were infamous musicians who couldn't have done this kind of unique damage. Somebody had glued (I hoped it was glue) a pair of pants to the ceiling. Not my pants, thankfully, but it would take a while to sort those out. I grabbed a few napkins and wiped the remains of the Maren off of my body. It had not made it down to my silk boxers. Something had gone right.

I leaned against the counter, and could feel the drink's restorative effects working it's way through my body.

"Do you want to know the answer?" I asked slowly, as if the words were a danger.

[Sanis Prent]

"Nah, not really."

I shouted my answer over the din of hot shower water, splashing down on me like angel tears. The lather was snagged from the utility nook in the shower and I went to work. Before the soap hit, I caught enough of a tell-tale hot buttered crotch funk from down below to know that I'd probably gone digging for clams enough to make an Aqualish blush. So at least that part was predictable.

"I just read the first thing on that menu, who gives a shit we're expensing it out anyway, right?"

Extra soap. Crotch. Scrub scrub scrub.

"We all remembered to keep our chits in our socks, right? Also, who's telling the Ewok he has to leave? That's probably gonna be awkward."

[Xel-Naga]

He should probably get up. Make some kind of half-hearted attempt to clean himself up and get going with the day. Sanis and Adjerban seemed to have fallen into that pattern and were busy checking themselves for space gonorrhea and drinking baby blood. Respectively. There was a brief struggle to free himself from the sofa tyrant but it was fruitless in the end and instead he settled down deeper into the soft fabric as he wiggled his face in deeper and deeper. So soft... and smelly. What the fuck?

"Shit fuck!" He exclaimed loudly as he rolled off the couch and on to the floor among and on top of the sea of bottles. "If there is a god he drives a unicycle." Because he's a masochist. Duh. Rolling over and moaning he started dislodging bottles from the various facets of his body and tossing them half-hazardously out of the way, hitting table legs and walls, and almost himself, but he drunkenly swooned out of the way of the last one that threatened to clip him upside the head like a Nar Shaddaa pimp wanting his money.

There was just no other way around it. He stood up, letting the world spin him around a few times before his head finally settled with only listing to the left a little. He over cautiously stepped over the strewn bottles and over to the table the Ewok was sleeping on. "Hey. Hey you. Sanis how much did we give the little guy to drink? He's way out, man."

However, poking the little guy did reveal that he had a half smoked cig in his little hand, which Xel promptly took with a sigh of "Score!" before sticking it in his own mouth and lighting it up. And it was while he was standing there, smoking over the furry critter, that the first fresh thought of the day dawned on him.

"Where th'fuck did we get an Ewok?"

[Adjerban the Interloper]

My eyes were now sort of open. I was experimenting with one at a time. I was waiting on the alcohol to finish it's due diligence and restore a degree of numbness to bring tolerance to the world.

Heh, tolerance.

I spied the "Ewok" and even through the painful blur, I knew he wasn't the furry cuddly things that murdered stormtroopers with rocks and tree limbs. The nose and ears were all wrong, but it was small and furry and we were smashed eight ways to Life Day, which brought about the case of mistaken identity.

"I'm not doing it until I'm buzzed again." I called back. Yeah, I was gonna get the little guy a cab back to his room, wherever that was. And yeah, I knew it wasn't an Ewok. Whatever. I'd have to weather the pain for a few more minutes until the vodka kicked in, and after I'd had a shower. Which sounded like real water. Nice. Ow. Thinking still hurt.

Please vodka, kick in.

[Sanis Prent]

"Did he make us a part of his tribe? I'm really not good with relationships. I vaguely remember we asked him to tell us about his people and I definitely remember there was a pipe passed around, and whatever we had kind of went all altered state on me and I became an X-Wing."

By this time I was out of the shower, and reflecting on what I just said as I dripped dry on baby bantha wool rugs or whatever was making sex to my bare feet.

"Which, now that I'm having this moment of clarity, made my escort's sudden acceptance of anal really, really awesome."

The bathroom door was open (why be modest now) and I glanced at the table where our Ewok friend lay.

"Oh what the shit, when did the Ewok turn into a Chadra Fan?"

[AR-4]

Somehow forgotten in the post-hedonist warzone, one of Sasseeri Reeouurra's AR series protocol droids quietly went along the business of disposing of empty bottles, drug paraphernalia, spent condoms, broken pieces of furniture, smashed fruit, and a now-inoperable child-sized repulsorsled, among other things unfit for mentioning.

"Begging your pardon sirs, you insisted on the Chadra Fan being invited to the suite."

[Adjerban the Interloper]

"Shut up, Arthur. Go find me a pair of pants, and leave the little guy alone."
Did droids have feelings? Did I care one iota? Maybe and no. Doubly so because it was Arthur. Fuck you and your dead droid optical receptors.

I would put on the same underwear and shirt until suitable replacements could be found, but right now, pants were the problem, and Arthur wouldn't be able to figure out how to keep the little guy from ending up as food for some burly Cizerack cabby.

I was brave enough to take a step, because I was mercifully close to the kitchen counter and island/bar. You learn to appreciate a good kitchen when you need to entertain certain ladies to make special drinks for them.

The step was more of a shuffle, but I was finding a degree of equilibrium. I continued my shuffle into one of the other rooms in this outlandishly lavish suite. There were two very distinctly lady-like hand prints made from lubricant on my bedroom mirror. There were also my pants on a half-opened drawer. Go me.

I shed my shirt and drawers and stepped into the sonic pre-wash while the water took 20 seconds to heat up. I was then greeted with the 2nd best post-hangover combat exercise.

[Xel-Naga]

"Don't take all the goddamn hot water Adjerban." Xel called out as the man slunk out of view at a crippled gait. Of course, looking in that general direction meant he had to look Sanis straight in the eye. With a heavy sigh, Xel carefully walked around the table to the linen closet on the other side. Inside he discovered a collection of odds and ends that included a giant vibrator shaped like a Wookiee dong and a lot of garbage that he probably should not touch lest he risk further sexual diseases.

What the cupboard lacked for the most part was linens, but there was a fluffy white towel hidden in the back behind all the detritus. This was carefully excavated and tossed at Sanis with an accuracy that would have been thought impossible in Xel's current state.

Something in his mind clicked and Xel found himself easing the door into the linen closet back open and reaching inside and bringing it back holding a half empty whiskey bottle. His face was something between a child on Christmas and a knife in the shower psycho. The bottle was quickly tipped back and enjoyed while Sanis hopefully covered up.

In a completely unrelated note Xel would never be able to eat salami again.

"My escort wasn't really in to it. Come to think about it, I think my escort was the lady who cleans up."

[Sanis Prent]

"Arthur you mutinous mannequin, there's not enough grain alcohol on...Grain Alcohol Planet...to make this cool with me. "

I briefly finished drying with the towel Xel threw in my general direction, then drew it around my middle.

"What have I told you about Chadra-Fans? Put a blanket over their beady, doll-eyed heads and throw them in the nearest bin. Three times I told you this!"

Speaking of the gibbering horror, he began to stir on the table. I hoisted a spent magnum of Chandrilan champagne like a war club.

"How dare you make me a member of your fake tribe you...guy."

I sneered, which quickly turned to a look of nausea as I eased the war club down and simply pointed to the door. The small alien chittered something which was probably a blood curse at me (Oh God), and headed for the door.

"So help me if there's guano...can we set this room on fire?"

The door chime for room service rang at the same time as my comm did.

"Arthur, food! Uh, pay for it and, uh, check for guano...that asshole!"

With that delegated, I tapped my comm.

"Uh, hello?"

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

"Sanjis." Sasseeri blew at her hair, trying to get it out of her eyes, but it just flopped back down into her face. She wiped at it with an irritated hand, and then looked back at the commlink in her hand. "jI need you." She looked over her shoulder, pulling up her dangling spaghetti strap as she did so.

"I know," he replied, a little too cocky for this time of the morning.

She narrowed her eyes at the comm, and shook her head, her messy hair tickling her ears. "Just shut up and get overr herrre. Fjive mjinutes orrr jI starrrt takjing away those expensjive shoes you jinsjisted on buyjing. jI'm starrrtjing wjith the shjiny black ones." She clicked off the commlink and sat back down on the edge of her bed.

Sasseeri bit her lip and turned around, sitting crosslegged and staring at the male escort lying in the center of it. He was lying face up, splayed out as if in sleep, the sheets tangled about his legs.

He was also staring at the ceiling, and was very, very dead.

[Sanis Prent]

Well, she had me by the short & curlies...again! Predictable. Ugh. Of course, the shame in insinuating returning these...these...they weren't shoes, they were artisanal expressions of comfort or something. Look, I got a hand-written note when they were made. I met the Ithorian who made them. I met his family. It was kind of a personal moment that was just for me and that bitch couldn't just return them. Uh...well yeah she could. Damn that would be embarassing. Gorrau Ukren and his family, well, yeah I probably wouldn't be on first name basis anymore.

"Uh, guys. It's the boss, uh."

I checked my breath with a cupped hand. Not my best. Maybe swish with mint schnapps. Later.

"Arthur. I need clothes. Also, assholes, don't eat all the breakfast."

I sniffed at the air with dreadful apprehension, closing my eyes with barely-lidded revulsion.

"Please also check for guano. If that little hell beast shit in a plant instead of a perfectly good toilet, Arthur, I'm going to pull out your most important circuit board and just...piss all over it."

[AR-4]

Taking the hint, AR-4 immediately went to the wardrobe, retrieving a suitably smart outfit for Sanis, one noticeably absent of wrinkles or...stains.

"Very good, sir."

With indefatigable professionalism, the droid began to pass items of clothing to Sanis for him to put on.

[Adjerban the Interloper]

I didn't have crotch funk, that's for sure, although I'm pretty sure I gave Sanis' bed a good workout with a Cizerack female who was digging the long ears long hair combo.

Maybe she left her comm and we could go for round two. That would be nice. I had a vague recollection of great sex, and when drunk I don't get too much distorted vision. I was a bit more than drunk, though.

Maybe I didn't want to call that comm frequency after all. There was the Mystery of the Massive Undies, and some things were left to the scholars of the ages.

So yeah, the boss needed something.

I toweled myself off and located a pair of my pants. I walked into a mist of cologne and called it a day.

"What?" I asked, hair in another towel.

[Xel-Naga]

Xel eyeballed the little guy, and looked to Sanis, and then back to the Chandra Fan. "I thought you said Codru-Ji." and to think he had thought Sanis had something against people with four arms. Oh hell no. You haven't lived until you've gotten a handjob from a Codru-Ji. They left no rock unturned.

As the little critter jumped down from the table Xel attempted a kick aimed at it's cute little behind and missed completely causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor once again. Highlight: he didn't spill his booze. Getting back up from the floor with only the one hand available and constantly stopping to fill up his mouth made it take a lot longer to get upright again, but thankfully by the time he was up Adjerban was making his way out of the bathroom.

He grabbed another towel out of the linen closet, stopping to eyeball the mess inside again. Turning to Sanis he mouthed the word "guano" and hooked a thumb toward the closet and left. The passed the vodka to Sanis and stepped into the bathroom. His gait gave the impression that he was walking with one leg longer than the other.

Stripping off his sticky, plastered on clothing he did a quick checklist to make sure everything was where it was suppose to be. He wasn't quite sure where he should prioritize his cleaning so he just scrubbed the living hell out of everything just in case. Nothing about last night has resurfaced yet and he was very afraid that he had done a few things he wouldn't normally do in circumstances that did not involve alcohol and Sanis Prent. Body stains were no match for the loofah of doom.

He made his shower as fast as possible and got out. His towel was no where to be seen but his vodka was still here. Damnit. He totally failed that hand off. So, after a quick swig, he strode ass naked out of the bathroom and staggered with the swagger of a cripple toward his room. Opening the door he was met with some really offensive racial slurs written on the wall in a very angry, personal font that looked a lot like his own handwriting, which is to say with random capitals and horrible penmanship.

Shit.

At least his suitcase was still where he remembered leaving it. A few things were missing but there was a full choice of clothing in the least. While Sanis had a droid to do all this for him, Xel could never live with himself if he had someone else help pull his trousers on. He dressed smartly still in something slightly less pompous than what he had worn in Sass' casino. One last touch. Reaching under the bed he pulled out the stashed blaster holster and slipped the underarm harness into place and then pulled his coat on over the top.

Good. He finally felt clean and rejuvenated. Pity he still couldn't walk straight as he reentered the living room to rejoin his compatriots.

[Sanis Prent]

"Oh God, I..."

A wave of nausea hit me at Xel's discovery, and I nearly vomited, which would have been really bad timing because I was setting cufflinks.

"Who shits in a closet, really? We live in a society here!"

I looked back at the others, who were in various stages of recovery, and began to tie a fresh silk tie.

"Boss sounds kind of raggy, so let's just uh...keep her bitch dialed down until lunch or something. Arthur. Guano. Thin Fucking Ice."

Ugh, just saying it again made me ill. As the majordomo droid slid my jacket onto my shoulders, I finished checking myself in the mirror, and pilfered the first bite-sized thing I could off the room service cart before leaving.

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

Well, it was her ship, after all. Sasseeri used a bit of cotton to clean up the inevitable smears from last night's makeup, and then reapplied mascara. There. Presentable.

She ran her fingers through what had been a really nice blowout but was now sort of a tangled mess of loose curls, and winced as the door chime rang. Sasseeri grabbed up her glass of whiskey and finished it off, dropping it into the wastebasket in the refresher. "Let him in Tock."

The hulking Twi'lek did as asked, opening the front door to her suite and exchanging a look with his twin, Tick, in the carpeted hallway. Sanis came in, and she emerged from the 'fresher, a short calanic silk robe tightly belted over her ensemble of camisole and panties. "What took jyou so long?"

[Sanis Prent]

"Well you know, taking care of the kids and making sur.....oh."

I looked past her at the dead body (I think he was dead at least, he wasn't moving!) on the bed.

"Huh."

Wait, uh, I have something for this...

"That's uh, probably a bit more stiff than you were looking for, I guess."

Heh, nailed it.

[Adjerban the Interloper]

I was to the scene about a minute later than Sanis. Her twin lugs of bodyguards opened the door wordlessly. I left the hotel towel behind, my hair still damp. We can't all be beauty queens all the time.

I looked over the scene. Sanis was looking smug as if he'd just made the best drink or joke ever, and Sassy looked annoyed and distracting. Damn those legs.

Then I looked at the bed, and the day got much longer.

"Aw, fuck."

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

"You thjink?" Sasseeri sat in one of the armchairs, and crossed her arms and legs. The bed was rumpled, dead neon pink Zeltron male smack in the middle of it. There was a dusty looking mirror on a nightstand, a straw lying next to it.

She had red handprints around her neck which she scratched at distractedly. And the escort, deceased, was... Well he was still pretty damn dead. "jI need thjis cleaned up."

[Sanis Prent]

I glanced to the long-eared alien as he entered, still unable to shake my smirk off.

"At this whole situation, or are we figuring out cause of death? Because I'm saying the latter. Case closed, let's do breakfast."

The handprints at her neck were certainly visible, and I started to wonder if a certain lady forgot her safe word or something. That was medium spicy freaky I guess. At least no waterworks. Wait, I sniffed. No. No waterworks.

Then she mentioned something that wasn't cool. At all.

"Wait wait what? Clean...up? Don't we have maids and shit?"

[Xel-Naga]

Xel stopped outside the door to Sass' suite to check his hair in the reflection on the door trim, using one of his huge ape hands to smooth down his buzzed hair before stepping through the door behind Adjerban. Stepping was not quite the right description. It was more of a clumsy trip over his feet as he passed through a door that suddenly felt too narrow to navigate successfully. He almost had to grab on to Tock (or was it Tick?) to steady himself was object instead to lean back against the doorframe and cross his arms like he had meant to stagger in like a marionette with only half it's strings.

He had to say, he was a little disappointed. Creating dead bodies was suppose to be his job. Not only did he have to put up with and babysit Sanis fucking does whatever he wants Prent, but now they were being tasked with getting rid of a body they had in no part produced. As far he knew at least. Damnit. What did they do last night? Goddamnit.

"At least he died happy, eh?" And he giggled, because that was somehow hilarious. "Couldn't we just, you know, feed him to a couple of half-bloods?"

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

She stared at Xel, made a mental note on his record, and growled, "Half-brrreeds do not eat rrraw - you know what? Just get out of my sjight. Not you Sanjis!" He stopped mid turn, that grin on his face, and then Xel slowly realized she was referring to him.

Once he'd removed himself to the hallway, Sasseeri rubbed at her temple with one of her hands. "Thjis shjip jis stjill underrr jImperrrjial law, and deaths arrre rrreporrrted, as perrr company rrregulatjions. Get rrrjid of the body, jI don't carrre how, but jif you'rrre caught jI'll leave you all holdjing the fuckjing bag. So don't get caught."

[Adjerban the Interloper]

We'd just been handed a shit sandwich and been told to eat and enjoy it. I blankly starred at the offending former zeltron. Well, he was still a zeltron but a corpse of one and well, you know what? We're not going to do this shit. He's fucking dead, man.

"Well..." I started. It would do no good to move him in this state. He needed to look respectable, and judging by the pile of clothes in the corner that wouldn't fit Sassy, those were far from respectable. I looked at the zeltron again, and then at Sanis, and then at myself. No, this dude was too twinky by far. Both of us could have qualified for Strapping Young Lads, but I was a lot older.

A lady never tells.


"Sanis, we need to get this guy into the fresher and clean him up." I grabbed an arm. Sanis looked at me, looked at Sassy, and sighed. Yeah, you and me both buddy. He grabbed the other arm, and pulled him into the shower.

"Fuckin' corpses, man." I said, and Sanis leaned against the door frame and wiped his brow while I did the dirty work. Prissy bitch.

"I need a bath robe." I announced, and stomped into the closet and got a men's bath robe. We'd have to sell this, but I was a good salesman and Sanis could talk his way out of a set of stun cuffs. Xel was the biggest liability here and if he kept his mouth shut and hobbled quietly we'd be fine. I hope.

[Sanis Prent]

"Five'll get you ten this buck-fifty worth of lollypop's name was Sparkle or Dazzle."

I mean, when your body lotion comes pre-glittered, there's only so much to say, isn't there?

We kind of unceremoniously dumped the poor bastard in the refresher, and hit the extra scrubby cycle. Just in case, you know, released bowels, and oh God here it comes...

...yeah I yammied. Got the toilet though. Cool.

"Alright, so we're both on the same page that this is our first corpse-disappearing job though, right? Because if you're holding out a secret manual on me that is kind of a dick move, Adj."

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

Sasseeri padded over to the closet, where she took a pale blue shimmersilk dress off of a hanger while letting her robe fall to the ground. Underthings were removed and kicked aside while ones more appropriate for the dress were located and put on.

Gladiator sandals completed the look, and she grabbed a small clutch on her way through the sitting room. Tick opened the door for her, and she wrinkled her nose at the sight of Xel lounging against the hallway wall. "Ugh, just go back jin and help them, jif you'rrre able, Mjisterrr Naga. jI'll be at Starrrljight gettjing lunch."

She stalked off down the hallway, giving the tipsy assassin a wide berth, Tock trailing behind her like a giant white shadow. Tick looked at Xel, as if to say after you, and followed him into the room.

[Xel-Naga]

Xel slunk out of the room as best he could, what with his world listing to the left and managed to make it outside into the hallway without major catastrophe. Dammit Nate! You can do better than that! How much did I drink last night? Apparently too fucking much if the subsequent hangover was strong enough to make me use my real name when reflecting upon the situation.

He very much doubted he would be heavily involved with this unit for much longer. Between fucking up at the casino and this now it was a miracle he still had his legs and his life. That could change. He needed to smarten up. Nothing to do now, so he started found a wall to lean against and was about to nod off when Sass popped back out and started yelling at him again.

Aha! Redemption time. Xel did his very best to walk in a straight line (failed) but it was the thought that counted. At least now he finally had a specific set of skills that would prove handy. Before Sass scooped him up Xel had worked as an Enforce for Black Sun, then Black Nebula, and now Black Sun again. That meant he beat people up to get whatever the syndicate wanted, and sometimes people died, so he had dispose of a body more than a few times.

However, none of those times had been on a spaceship. He was at a bit of a loss. There was no animal farms to feed the body to and no convenient holes to dump it in. He racked his heavily addled mind as he crossed over into the refresher and looked down at the pair of hooligans trying to get a corpse dressed without touching any wobbily bits.

"What if we wrap him in a rug, and toss him out the airlock?"

[Adjerban the Interloper]

"I've done enough fucked up shit for three lifetimes, man." was all I had to say to Sanis. It had been a while since I'd disposed of a body, but the last time had been an accident. Well, the death had been an accident. What a catastrophe that had been. I had returned with two bath robes. One for Mr. Spadazzle, and the other for me, while I rinsed the shit off him. Aw hell. I took off my shoes, socks pants and donned one of the bath robe over the rest of my clothes. I was not going to get dead fucking Zeltron shit over my goddamn slacks. I rolled him over and sprayed down the release with the detachable showerhead. Real water showers make crime possible. Also, sex. Sanis and I (mostly I) fished the wet corpse out of the shower. Sanis handed me a towel and I got to work drying him. I mean, I couldn't fault the dude for having a stomach reset, but the dude was dead, and it wasn't like he was going necrophiliac homo on us. He'd just a dead purplish dude.

"Just hold him fucking still." I said, and finished tying the cord around the corpse's waist.

"Close, close." I said. My solution required far more sleight of hand than that, but was far less conspicuous. I mean, walking around around in a space luxury casino with a rug was fucking obvious and in bad form. You had other people walk around with the rug.

"He's gonna have a long walk into a short airlock."

[Sanis Prent]

I started to get the gist of Adj's idea, and I helped work him in the robe.

"Alright, so we set up a drunken idiot chorus line, cha-cha to the nearest garbage dump, and whoops?"

Seemed to be solid enough. Wait..

I produced my sunglasses from their leather hardshell case and slipped them on.

"I, uh, I'll need those back. Also, we gotta do something about the feet, otherwise he's just gonna flop like a fish."

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

Somewhere in the mess that was the bedroom a commlink began to ring (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaCCN95S7A8).

[Xel-Naga]

There was not a whole lot he could do. The refresher was not small by any means, but it was not big enough for all four of them. Instead of helping out with the dressing of the corpse, Xel was forced to occupy the doorway and peer over the tops of Sanis and Adjerban's heads.

The sweet wub wub of part rock pulled Xel's attention from the refresher into the rest of the room. Catchy music was playing from somewhere, and as far as he could tell through the alcohol haze there were no music playing devices in Sass' room. A bit shaky at first, Xel began to walk with a little more confidence as he strode through the room, nudging articles of clothing and discarded bedding with is boot to check for the source of the sound. It was hard to decide what was more disturbing, the complete lack of use protection or the abundance of sex toys scattered across the floor. Eventually he found a comm on the nightstand. Next to a choke collar.

Looking it over he would have thought it was Sass' if not for all the bejeweling. If he was a sex worker this is precisely the kind of comm he would want. Walking back to the bathroom he showed the ringing device to Sanis. Too much shit had fallen out of Xel's mouth already today and he didn't want to risk another fuck up.

"I'm guessing this is his..."

[Sanis Prent]

"Are you too drunk to answer a damn comm?"

I gave Xel a look, making a face.

"Nevermind. Gimme."

I took the comm, giving Adj a weird look as I flipped it on.

"Hello?"

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

"Jahni? Where you at, man? I hope you got 'overnight stay' money 'cause you're still buying lunch." It was a male voice on the other end of the line.

[Adjerban the Interloper]

"Yeah, I've got the money, but the client made a really spicy offer soo..." Sanis was hamming it up good. I put my loafers on the corpse. Whatever. Fuck it, I could get them back later. I had more shoes at our suite.

"No, we're meeting for lunch. You can take lunch off and go back. You know how this works Jahni." Sanis mouthed an angry word.

"I might run an hour late. The client just let me out of bed." He added. Any fudge time was good.

"So long as we get paid."

"Right, lunch." Sanis hung up, mercifully.

"Lets go get a drink." I said. Xel groaned.

"It's not for us. Ok, some of it is for us. It's for our hungover friend. Hair of the hound."

"C'mon Sanis, let's get our glitterboi some sauce." We escorted our dead friend out the door and toward the nearest watering hole.

[Sanis Prent]

I didn't want to ask if I pulled that off and sounded suitably twinkish on the comm. Wasn't sure if it was good or not that I didn't get called out on it. Whatever, as long as we got this meatball suitably disposed of, I'd live with it.

"Right, a shot for him, a two for me, and so on."

Let me tell you, it's difficult to carouse with a dead guy in your entourage. You've got to look like you're having a good time and also shoulder a bit of dead weight, which I totally farmed out to Xel, since he had those kind of load-bearing farmboy shoulders that looked more apropos to dead body carrying.

[Xel-Naga]

Xel shook his head in disappointment at Sanis' twink impression. How men thought that was attractive was beyond him. When he thought of a sexy man voice, he thought of something deep with a towering body behind it. A voice that looms. Shaking his head again, he attempted to clear the cobwebs from his head. There was no way he had only drank alcohol last night. He was way too fucked up for that. His motor function was improving but his mind was all over the place. It was so hard to focus, and even harder to resist giggling as Adjerban and Sanis dragged the newly dressed corpse out of the refresher.

A few moments later he was dragging the body through the hallways with the grumpiest face ever. He did his best to hold the twink, who weighed nearly nothing in comparison to the cowman that carried him, so that his feet just barely dragged. It was exhausting, but Adjerban helped him out whenever he needed it. Sanis let the pack, providing the much needed vision barrier to keep this entire illusion from falling apart.

When they hit the more populated floors, Xel put on his happy face, which was not so hard because it was trying to break out of his face this entire time. Goddamn whatever they gave him. He just wanted to dance and have fun and roll around on the floor. It made it that much harder to show the self control need to drag him into the closest bar.

The only thing this entourage was missing was very large hats.

"Someone get him a drink while I sit him down."

[Adjerban the Interloper]

With Xel's injury, waaay more weight than desired fell to me. Fuck you, Sanis. I plotted revenge as we stumbled injurdrunkedly down the promenade toward liquid deception.

Xel and I wrangled our good corpsefellow into a chair and somehow got him to sit without looking dead. We shared an approving nod, because well, damn.

"You know what we need, Xel?" I asked. The oversized assassin looked uncomfortable but curious.

"Bigass hats." I made a gesture around my head as if I were running two fingers along the edge of a brim of a bigass hat. He nodded knowingly. If he wasn't hurting so much, I was sure he would have smiled.

What happened last night? What happened to getting drinks? Where the fuck was the booze?

"Sanis you pantywaist." I called the lazyboy out. He was chatting up a rather stunning Twi'Lek bartender that had enough attitude where the smalltalk's rocks and bumps were treated as challenges and obstacles rather than out and out lane closure.

"Drinks, oh douche on high." I gestured impatiently. If we wanted to get away with this we needed to not think with our dicks. Well, much. He brought back a pitcher of sangria. A fitting breakfast if I've ever seen one.

"We need bigass hats." I stated while pouring glasses of the fruit/alcohol melange.

[Sanis Prent]

"I don't do hats, man."

I had an idea where Adj was going with this, but it was stupid. Duros bounty hunters did big hats. Naboo royalty did big hats. Cizerack rrou'fais did big hats. Not that I spent much of any real time on my hair, but my hair is naturally awesome, and besides, whatever hat you could find that would match this ridiculous tailored suit (no such hat exists on short notice) would broadcast super conspicuous mobster to literally everyone on the ship.

Now, for our poor life-deprived friend? Well, he was in a bath robe, so already he was playing fast and loose with conventions.

I picked some of the fruit from my sangria, setting it aside on a cocktail napkin, and shrugged, not at all helpful.

"Well shit, you tell me about this mythical hat store then!"

Just about that time, our dead buddy's head pitched forward, and nearly tipped the pitcher over as he bonked against the rim.

[Xel-Naga]

A big ass hat would be nice now that Xel was thinking about it. It would help cover up his slowly receding hairline and the general lack of hair made it a wee bit nippy on top. It would have to be something big but badass. He was not sure there was enough hat in the galaxy to cover his magnificent chrome dome. All this thinking was making his head hurt.

The Sangria showed up and thinking became a thing of the past as he balanced his new friend on the barstool until he felt stable, or rather the world was not moving so much, and then reached to poor himself a glass. He had just gotten his cup filled and set the pitcher back on the counter when the corpse pitched forward. "No, mine!" He hissed as forehead connected with glassware and would have taken it all with him to the floor was Xel protectively pulled it away, allowing the corpse's head to bounce off the counter top.

With the sangria now at a safe distance he pulled the corpse back up. "Come now Jim. Stop being such a clown." Pat pat on shoulder and the man appeared to be sitting up again thanks to Xel's reestablished grip. His free hand was, naturally, employed as a sangria delivery system.

"I dunno chaps. I think hats would draw attention. We're s'pose to be lyin' low. What we should get is some fake mustaches and eye glasses. They'll never know who we are. Faultless."

[Adjerban the Interloper]

"Stupid." I countered.

Logic. Logic has no place here. We're toting a corpse toward an airlock in a luxury cruise ship. Damn, what I wouldn't give for a good swamp or forest or mountain right now, and a speeder with a bigass cargo hold.

If wishes were fishes we'd all be on Dac.

Fundamentally Xel was right. Hats were a distraction. An AWESOME distraction.

"I'm gonna go get... one hat." I gave our dead compatriot another glance. I stood and wobbled slightly. I left with a lightly slurred gait, roughly 3 sheets to the wind.

The hat store was only a few hundred meters away. Among my many unmentioned abilities is that I can pretty much glance at someone and figure out what size garment fits. I have no idea why I can do this, but it's a thing.

I grabbed a hat. It was subtle. I looked it over. It was dark, not shiny, wide enough brim to hide our friend's eyes. I looked at the price. Urghhh.

The things we do to stay out of jail.

I paid for the hat and returned to my friends. I have mixed feelings about hats, namely because nearly everyone made needs to be altered to accommodate my ears. I have a hat... somewhere. Not tall, wide brim trimmed and reinforced to allow for my comical ears. Good in the sun.

"Here you go." I deposited the hat on our friend and nodded to myself.

Sanis and Xel had finished the sangria, it was time to pay up and look at the wonder of the inky depths of the galaxy.

"Let's go wonder at the galaxy for a bit, eh?"

[Sanis Prent]

"Keep the receipt."

My inner tightwad reared its head. I mean, why not? Maybe you could just put silly body-disposing hats on some kind of criminal syndicate expense report. Probably not.

The sangria was in various stages of death. It was stage two of six in the alcoholic's breakfast. We'd be on to Bloody Amidalas in an hour, and Coronets half before noon. That's give or take a caf spiked with whisky. You have to give your liver enough room to develop whimsy about these kinds of life choices.

"So we chorus line and show-step a few decks down to waste refuse, or something more roundabout?"

That was the trick about these luxury liners, wasn't it? When you needed an obvious source of a gruesome demise, you just couldn't fucking find one. Oh you want a hat? Yeah I got your fucking hat. But a shark tank with conspicuously missing handrails? Keep dreaming, dreamer.

[Xel-Naga]

A quick fish through trousers pockets produced not just a few credit chits for a tip but also a string, paper clip, battery, a phone number on a sticky note, and a device of obvious sexual design that he was fairly certain did not belong to him. It must be Adjerban's. He looked the type to own such a device. "Keep the change." He said, nodding to the collection of objects he just left behind. One of which was vibrating softly. One hint, it wasn't the paper clip.

"I vote for roundabout." Xel chipped in. After that luxurious breakfast he was starting to regain some of his lost mental capabilities. Regretful memories went hand in hand. However, his professional opinion was also one of the first children to wake up in the playground of his mind. And like a child hoped up on candy and meth he was jumping up and down waving his hand at the obvious red flag. Everything he knew about dumping bodies told him not to go directly to body drop and directly back home again. That was how people got caught.

He was regretting not cutting the body up into more manageable pieces.

"Anyone know the layout of this place? I can't remember a goddamn thing."

[Sanis Prent]

"Well I can find all the bars, card pits, and titty shakes, but didn't quite place the wood chipper."

The interactive map kiosks were everywhere, and I sauntered up to the nearest one, drink still in hand. Placing my non-drinking hand on the frame for balance, I prodded the interface with a condensation-moistened finger, flipping through decks and hull sections with a mildly buzzed ennui. After a few minutes of frustrated futility, it occurred to me that there just weren't many places to look on a pleasure liner for items horribly dangerous to life and limb.

"Well, I still vote for the garbage disposal, but you're well and damn free to take the long odds of us getting some poor patsy beyond shitfaced and sticking him with our dearly departed Sparkle."