The Usual Suspect

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s'Il groaned, rolling to her side as she pulled herself up from the dredges of her subconscious; a daunting task that she'd done many times over, and each time was just as much of a pain as the last.

How long she'd been out was a mystery, and she didn't even try to guess.

Her eyes; all traces of their former tawny coloration gone, gleamed with a tired metallic sheen as she stared at the wall opposite... and cursed.

Not even bothering to pat herself down for her weapons, s'Il put forth only enough effort to sit up, and leaning forward, rested her elbows on her knees as her shoulders sagged and her head fell, locks of dark blonde falling into her face.

God I hate getting stunned...

[Commander Zemil Vymes]

Vymes entered the holding block, a guard opening the door for him as he stepped inside. A table separated S'Ilancy from himself. With an impassive face, he sat on his end, setting a styrofoam cup down, and a small paper package, sliding both toward the woman.

"Brought you some caf. Should get the stun butterflies out of your stomach...but better than the alternative. Smokes too, if you'd like."

He leaned back in his seat, awaiting a response.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"I don't smoke and caf is overrated."

Her grumbled response echoed her tired appearence, and leaning back, s'Il closed her eyes. Letting out a hissed sigh, she didn't say anything for a few minutes. It'd been a while since she'd been in this situation; though for her it was like riding a bike. Once you've gone through the motions, you don't forget.

Stretching her feet out beneath the table, she opened one eye, lazily staring at Vymes.

"So what's on my Christmas list this year... "

[Commander Zemil Vymes]

"Actually, that's my line. That, and asking if you're a good, or a bad little girl."

Vymes snagged a smoke from the pack that S'Il declined, lighting it in a flare.

"Because I have lots of toys, and even more lumps of coal. But I'm not an unreasonable jolly elf."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

" 'Not unreasonable' in what way?" she griped, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, her hands lying palmdown on the surface.

"Cause I specifically remember telling you I don't rat out the people who work for me.

"... or do you just have a really bad memory... ?"

[Clive Jerrard]

In another, less confining, part of the Galaxy...

(Clive settled into his office. Everything had been left the way it had been the last time he'd been here.)

(Having already inspected what work was going on in the hangar bay, hidden deep within the bowels of Nar Shadda, it's entrance obscured by a holographic advertisement for a hair replenisher for badling beings. Work was good and booming, ships being enhanced with top of the line weapons and technology. The weapons depot on the other side of the hangar was working wonders, receiving and shipping orders, each order shipped secretly and, if the money was right, with no questions asked. And the information brokering was going quite smoothly from what Raunkks had told him. Two clients already happy and sending big fat credit transfers, and a good dozen wanting their own assortment of information. Yes... business was good.)

(Now, all he needed to do was wait for a 48 hour period in which he would then meet Miss s'Ilancy at a rather run down cantina on the nicer side of Nar Shadda.)

(Until then, Clive decided to take a nap. Leaning back in his chair and placing his boots on his desk, he reached over and hit a button on his comm.)

Hold all my calls for the next two hours, R'nala.

(The Twi'lek secretary acknowledged with a double tap to the comm. And with that, Clive closed his eyes for a much needed nap.)

[Commander Zemil Vymes]

"That part, I remember."

Vymes nodded with a recalled certainty, waggling the end of his lit stim.

"The part I'm confused about is why you ran...and further...why you assaulted a badge. I mean, you've told me you don't much care for my company, but you haven't been doin much thinkin of late, unless you like prison food."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She grumbled a little, leaning back to stretch.

"You didn't actually think I'd shoot you, did you?" she asked through a lazy yawn, "I mean, I'm not stupid enough to label myself a cop-killer. It's just bad for business."

Rocking back forward, she rested her arms on the table between her and Vymes. "I've eaten worse than prison food, trust me. And as for why I ran... " she grinned. "I needed the exercise. I'm becoming a little sluggish these days; not... expressing myself makes me a little dull."