How to Avoid Being the Third Wheel

[Sen]

Falleens are green. Dac is blue. The mix should look serene. But, to Sen it was not tranquil. It was not even relaxing to see his favorite green gal at the docking bay. Xae was stepping off the New Coral shuttle onto city grounds. She ran the shuttle service. And, sometimes, when workers were on sick leave she piloted. Sen knew she enjoyed being behind the controls over the Dac water. Once, the ocean backdrop was scenic. However, history (a handful of years) made the quaint into the mundane. He had become comfortable in Dac’s exoticness. Too comfortable; he was restless. Xae strapped her backpack and saw Sen. He leaned at the gate. His arms crossed and crooked mouthed. Xae pushed her black hair from her eye, walking to him. When she first met Sen, he was a runaway orphan off world gearhead. She gave him a job. She gave him a place to stay. In return, she gained an apprentice.

Or, as Sen specified: “Yeh flunky, at ya service yeh highness,” he mocked a curtsy as Xae smirked. Her eyes rolled. She walked on by – Sen at her side. “Whatchu want from me t’day, eh? Dock pick-up? Service check? Port run? What can I do fo’ ya?”

“Leave.” Xae turned to trot to the speeder lot.

“Leave?” Sen followed, nearly bumping into a group of Squibs. “Whaddya mean leave?”

Xae reached out. Sen handed her the keys. With a click the speeder chirped alive. “My cousin’s –“ Xae walked to the driver side and caught a glimpse of Sen’s grimace. He knew all about Xae’s cousin. Xae was a small chain business owner on Dac, but on her home planet a noble. Nobility looked out for one another. Although the Falleen’s galactic reputation was smeared by Imperial propaganda, their culture hadn’t declined with the failed biological experiment and preceding massacre. Infrequent visits from the green aristocrats kept Sen’s curiosity subdued. However, Xae’s cousin was a braggart; Sen described a snot-colored piece of s**t. Anytime he left the room, Sen grumbled E chu ta! Close enough. Named Zechu, he was broad faced, large, red and a Xiss family brat. Zechu wasn’t loved, he was tolerated. As the sole heir he inherited his father’s purse. To do so he’d need to learn to manage. Often his visits were for educational purpose. Yet, Sen was Xae’s unofficial (and pet project as it concerned the family) apprentice which led to constant power struggles between Zechu during his visits. Xae ended Zechu stopovers prematurely on numerous occasions because of these bouts. Xae defended Sen tirelessly.

She looked down at the keys and smiled.

Four years before, she had yanked the same keys from an officer after Sen went on a joyride through Foamwander’s ports. He managed to disrupt a hangar bay meeting between the local mechanic union & Alliance officials. If he hadn’t swooned one of the mechanic’s daughters a week prior charges would’ve been pressed. Instead of earning court dates, Sen lost dinner dates and gained driving skills with a side-dish of Xae chewing him out. A week after, he was allowed to run city courier assignments for the company; Sen was named the fastest company ride two years in a row. “My cousin’s on the pilgrimage is coming in to take over. Your ticket is paid for and –“ she air quoted “our ‘retirement’ fund is for the taking.”

The two opened their doors. Xae started the engine. Sen blinked bewildered. “Plus, you got a hefty bank account. The times come for you to move on.”

Sen leaned into his seat. The music droned until his senses dulled. He looked out his window. Out the window buildings stood. They reached at the sky. He had wondered about the view from roof tops. Once, Sen had won a bet where the loser would have to skydive naked. The dock workers sucked at sabaac. But, the pictures he took of those losers were still laughable. Soon they’d be in a traffic jam. Then, back at the house. Then, he’d be packing bags.

Then, he’d be gone.

[Kallum Romanoch]

"I'm sorry, arright!?"

Hands aloft in surrender, Kallum wilted, crashing against the steering wheel. The horn gave a long mournful moan, lost amongst the cacophony of barking speeders which floated high above New Coral City. Ranks of vehicles stretched far and wide, never ending, never moving, a sky-high prison for thousands of disgruntled commuters. And they were in the thick of it. Behind him, his employer gave a portentous huff and slumped back into the embrace of luxurious leather. He'd survived another tongue-lashing but for how much longer he could weather the matron's wrath was another matter entirely. It seemed unlikely he would live to see the happy end of this traffic jam.

It was a monumental frack-up on his part. The meeting was over and, in her absence, the contract had no doubt been lost to one of Taataani's biggest rivals. Sure, it was an easy mistake to make, in fact, anyone could've made it. How was he supposed to know that when Taataani told him the meeting was being held in the new Coral City Center of Commerce she wasn't referring to the old Centre of Commerce in New Coral City? So, to summarise, not only had the entire business portion of the business trip gone south, but they were stuck in completely the wrong city in which every penthouse suite in every hotel in town was fully-booked. Next came the rain, drumming the windows with taunting taps.

"I' could be worse," he managed a weak chuckle, "Least we didn' take deh convertible!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Ah."

It was a curt sound. Like a snapping twig. The Meorrrei house matron sat low in her plush seat, a crowded ashtray at her nearest door full of enough cigarillo butts to note that they'd been indisposed for a very, very long time.

"Sso jyou thjink ssjittjing herre...gojing nooooowherre...that'ss prreferrable to drrownjing, jiss jit?"

Still fuming, her tail slapped audibly against the seat to punctuate her ire.

"Don't thejy have ssomethjing forr a VjIP lane herre? Ssomethjing that, jI don't know, ssajyss 'jI'm bloodjy jimporrtant and on rrealljy jimporrtant bussjinesss!?' No! Of courrsse not! Everrjyone'ss content to sspend the prrjime of thejirr jyearrss wasstjing awajy jin a...jin a...queue dessjigned bjy gleeful anarrchjisstjic jidjiotss!!"

A rumble sounded from her middle, and she flounced across the back seat with no real grace.

"Leave jit to a planet full of ssentjient ssqujid and fjissh to completeljy cock up ssomethjing sso ssjimple asss an effjicjient trraffjic ssjysstem! Out frrom underr the wavess and jyou losse all ssensse jyou prrobabljy neverr even had! Don't fjissh sswjim jin sschoolss?! Sshouldn't thjiss be eassjy forr 'em?!"

Another rumble, this time loud enough to still her tantrum.

"Oof."

Laying still a moment, she listened to the mocking rain upon the roof of the sedan and the windows. Kallum didn't dare interject. He was in the eye of the hurricane. There may yet be a chance for him to be spared, and he'd take that chance. At last, she broke the calm.

"Kallum darrljing. Wherre's the next exjit? jI'm hungrrjy."

[Kallum Romanoch]

Once, when he was still playing the part of Sorsha Kasajian's bastard stray, Kallum took a shine to a young Twi'leki slave girl. In the beginning, he told himself it was probably just a phase, but, as all the young men of Tattooine eventually come to realise, there's no growing out of Twi'leki slave girls. And this particular one had big blue eyes, skin that glistened like emeralds, a shy smile, and could do things with her lekku to make a Hutt's eyes water. In retrospect, it was perhaps unsurprising that she was granted freedom on the grounds that she became the majordomo's personal servant, and thus ended a beautiful relationship. Though, before she left, Kallum questioned her, first, regarding the disappearance of a healthy sum of credits, and secondly, about how she managed to escape the bonds of slavery. Then, in a tone that was somehow equally timid and self-satisfied, she said:

"The trick is anticipation. It is the quality that separates the servants from the slaves; to know what a man wants, before he knows he wants it, and to exploit the opportunity to maximum advantage. I am no longer a slave because I am the best at what I do. And no, I'm afraid I do not know what happened to the five hundred credits hidden in your footlocker. Goodbye, Kallum."

Ah, Ira, you were a lesson hard-learned. So, when asked of the whereabouts of the nearest eatery, Kallum was already fingering through a holographic map of the area. The rumbling was the clue, and he was fast to act, for he'd rather try his chances with a speeder on an empty tank than a Rrou'fai with an empty stomach. Under his hurried fingertips, the three-dimensional blueprint shrunk, turned, rotated, and expanded, zeroing in on a bright red blip on the map. It was a pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel, and as the conga line of congestion shuffled forward, he snatched at the opportunity. The engine roared like a woken wampa and the speeder lurched forward violently, behind him he heard the matron tumble in her seat, first one way and then the other, as they swerved into the neighbouring lane. His grin was almost imperceptible.

"Apologies fer deh rough ride, mam. Bu' if yeh wan' deh next exi' den we we're in deh wrong lane. Arrigh' back der?"

Upon glancing back, he noticed through the back window a rather angry-looking Falleen with a human companion in the vehicle behind them. So that's what all the obnoxious horn-honking was about, he thought, and shook his head pitifully.

"Y'know, some people jus' can' 'andle rush hour traffic."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Rising from an awkward position and with mussed hair to boot, Madame Meorrrei glowered at the rough handling as Kallum made a break for the exit. Bucking again, claws came out to clamp on the driver's shoulders, lest she be catapulted backwards once more.

"Thjiss jiss drrjivjing, not a sstarrfjighterr dogfjight! jYou'rre gojing to get me kjilled, Kallum! And jif jyou do, Sanjaarra help me, jI wjill come back frrom the dead and haunt jyou forreverr!"

Noticing the honking tailgater on their six, Taataani frowned, carefully removing her claws from Kallum's person, opting instead to hang onto his seat instead.

"Wherre'ss that jidjiot off jin a hurrrjy to?"

[Kallum Romanoch]

"Maybe dey're 'ungry, too. We should invite 'em teh dinner. It'll be charmin'!"

But the scene that was unfolding before and around them was anything but charming. It seemed someone had spotted Kallum's little manouveur and had followed suit in a bid to claim the vacated spot. Unfortunately, unlike the sophisticated Ubrikkian beast that Kallum and his employer occupied, the jalopy sported by the adventurous queue-jumper was found wanting and stripped the paint off a metrocab. Then the cab-driver, unleashing thunderbolts, sailed into battle. Furious bulging eyes surfaced from the sunroof and, weather-be-damned, the portly Mon Calamari ranted until his face turned from pink to purple. Shaken by his ordeal, the culprit sat frozen, and his speeder sat askew between two lanes. It spread like shockwaves throughout the innumerable throng, a whole variegated chorus of yells, as ranks of disgruntled drivers joined the quarrel, punctuating their grievances with howling horns. And at the epicenter of it all sat Kallum and his boss, who between them managed a long unnatural silence, which was only occassionally offset by the matron's tummy grumbles. Kallum could take it no more.

"I spy... wi' my little eye..."

[Sen]

The arm of the passenger seat fit perfect for his elbow. His hand supported his head. If it hadn't he would've dosed off. Raindrops hit the speeder's hood and yells stormed the freeway - business as usual. Between Xae & Sen, more than two decades of Calamari driving was shared and they knew the streets like the back of their hand.

Neither had the patience to sit idle behind a line of tourist and drones. Whether Sen was plagued with boredom or Xae with restlesness, the tandem's mind was already wondering what place to eat as the bug-eyed cab drivers eyes bulged.

"...bantha burger?"

"Bantha Burgers it is."

And Xae began to drift lanes to the exit. One way or another, they had to get out of there before one of them exploded.