So...now what?

[Rizel]

No more than an hour ago, Rizel was liberated from the half-slavery that was her job as a dancer and seductress. Surprisingly, it was a Sith, not a Jedi that had helped her. She had considered following him, making an attempt to join with him, but she doesn't know if she's Force sensitive. Now she wanders aimlessly about, hands clasped behind her back, mouth set in a thoughtful pout. What to do? Oh, what to do...

[Garth Selachii]

As the girl wandered through the streets, she passed by a bench. Upon the bench there lay an old tramp, asleep apparently, and sat by him was a young man in black. The older of the two was slumped across the chair messily, whilst the younger sat stiff and upright. He had the air of someone not wanting to attract any attention to himself, but in being like this only caught people’s eyes more often.

Still, however, he stared forwards at no definite point, his gaze only shifting very slightly as Rizel passed by.

[Rizel]

Rizel passed him without even turning her head. She did, however, note him checking her out. It was a common thing in the clubs...she learned to see the men who were looking without making it obvious, to approach them and see what she could do about thinning out their wallets. She sighed with a slight shake of her head.

"Maybe I'll never get over this..."

[Garth Selachii]

Deciding against simply sitting in silence all day, Garth questioned:

“Get over what?”

A little blood had spilled onto the bench and the side of his coat. Hopefully he would leave the bench before the body began to spasm.

[Rizel]

Though she didn't express it, his words had startled her. Very rarely was she asked anything apart from illicit favors.

"Old habits," she replied evasively.

[Garth Selachii]

“… Die hard?”

Garth stood up now, and felt the dampness of the bloodied cloak against his outer thigh. The crimson would be unnoticeable on the black velvet, but it was troublesome none the less. He wore a patient smile, that although seemed sincere suggested some form of ulterior motive somewhere beneath it.

[Rizel]

"Yes."

She leaned against a lamppost, looking over at him. What a creepy-looking man. There were worse in the club though.

"I was just released from the job I've held for my entire life. I don't know what to do beyond the skills I know in this job. I don't know where I should go or what I should do."

[Garth Selachii]

“Maybe I could help,” Garth replied as he assessed the woman for ‘potential’.

“What job did you previously hold?”

[Rizel]

"I was a dancer."

She folded her arms and shifted her position to glare at him. He couldn't be more obvious, openly gawking at her like that.

"Is there something wrong?"

[Garth Selachii]

“Something wrong?” Garth’s expression should have changed to question, or even panic, but it stayed as that ever-living calm smile.

“Not at all. I was just pondering over whether an offer I have might interest you… an offer of a job.”

[Rizel]

Rizel eyed him dubiously. No doubt the job in mind was something along the lines of "unwilling mistress"...but curiousity got the best of her.

"Like what?"

[Garth Selachii]

Inside, Garth laughed to himself.

“Do you know how to fight?”

[Rizel]

"Not really."

Fighting was never a necessary skill for a dancer to have. Not to say she can't defend herself; she's nimble and quick, but her attacks lack stopping power. The last time she hit someone, she was the one that got hurt.