G'mornin' Swee'heart

[Ledo G. Prent]

Nobody ever plans on visiting Florrum.

Oh, it's on the way to lots of places. Ossus to Korriban? Make a left at Florrum, mate. Lianna to Carshoulis? Go a bit past Florrum, and hit the hyperlane switchback. It's a can't-miss. Bothawui to Dac? What, and take Hutt Space? Are you mental? Get on through Florrum, you tit.

Of course, it's the on the way bit where shit happens. The engine breaks down. The money runs out. The pirates...well...it's fuckin Florrum, mate.

And once you get to there instead of through there, you usually don't have any good idea how it happened. At a loss.

Certainly don't remember going to no bar.

Don't remember gettin thrown out, either.

Probably had more clothes on than just your skivvies when you walked in, that's for sure.

Enter Ledo J. Prent - The Rancor of Malastare (patent pending). Slumped up against the mud brick walls of Stumpy's Dive and Juke Joint. Half-full bottle of rot-gut in one hand and lying askew in his lap across his grubby knickers. His other hand locked in a pair of stun cuffs, which in turn were locked to some leggy blonde-haired sheila in a similar state of bewildered undress.

And between our two utterly-twatted protagonists, there was a dog.

That's where the story begins, basically.

[Sam Porter]

Her mouth tasted like a dirty sock. Least, that was the first thing she was aware of. A dirty sock that'd been chewed up by a womprat, then spit out and trampled by banthas. It wasn't the most pleasant of tastes that was for certain.

The second thing to hit her awareness was the breeze. Like, literally the breeze. Eyes still closed she frowned while lifting one hand up to her chest to feel...

aw hell...

And that was what jerked her fully awake, and startling the... dog? beside her, Samantha Porter shot forward from her slumped position. She gave a sudden yelp as her right arm received a healthy jolt from the stun cuff around her wrist, instinctively pulling her arm away which only caused another shock to bite through her and the unfortunate soul stuck in the other cuff...

Oh no... no no nononononono...

Not him. Anyone but him.

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Oi now! Mind th' jostlin' an pu' th' kettle on..."

The stun shock merely served to hasten an end to Ledo's unconscious state, his slumped head animating in a series of facial expressions as his closed eyes began the process of opening. Now awake, he took a look at his shabby state of undress, then a look at the rotgut. Then the dog. Then the cuffs. And then what was hooked onto the cuffs next to him. A slow smile appeared, flashing yellow teeth as a voice full of gravel and stim ash purred.

"Weellllll......g'mornin' swee'heart."

[Sam Porter]

Oh gods...

She gave a grunt in response, then a light groan while shifting a small bit, now mindful of the stuncuff jewelry she shared with Ledo Prent. Her face descended into an almost confused scowl as she looked away from him to give a groggy stare at their surrounding.

"Wha... "

None of this was making sense, and where were her clothes?! At least she still had her unders, but that was small consolation as she managed to form a sentence finally.

"Are we still on Florrum?"

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Florrum?! 'Ang onna minnit!"

Now it was his turn to pull the cuffs, feeling their familiar sting in its full glory.

"Easy on th' juice, eh sheila? I'n feel tha' in me bollocks."

He had to think. Ledo's face creased in the sort of deep-thinking philosopher's way as he plugged from the warm bottle of hooch in his other hand.

"I'se onna ship fer Ryloth, I was. Onna them rainbow-colored cunnies payin me ta move...somefin-er-otha, dunno wot."

Truly stumped, Ledo sloshed the bottle in his off hand for emphasis.

"Muss've stopp'd fo a pissah. Still don't much essplain you 'ere, Sammie-bo-Bammie."

[Sam Porter]

"Don't call me that," came the almost whiny response, punctuated by disgruntled yelps as Ledo kept disturbing the stun cuffs, and in a fit of childish tit-for-tat, she jerked her arm more than a bit jarringly, sending another stream of jolts into the both of them.

"And keep still you lummox."

How exactly she'd gotten here was more than a little mystery to her, but hell if she was going to go trying to figure things out - what with the more immediate issue of trying to disengage herself from Ledo J. Prent forefront on her mind.

Her free hand came around to stop in front of his chest, palm up and fingers twitching in silent beckoning.

"C'mon, give up the key."

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Wossabout t' ask ya th' same."

Ledo shrugged a bit, careful as he did to be mindful of the cuffs.

"Not that Ah'd begrudge wak'n up shackled to a bitta strange bein in mah poh-ticulah state o' undress, bu' less be honess, Sams..."

The gnarly old pirate swigged from the bottle, a bit of backwash running down his chin as he leered.

"Yerra bit mo' regulah than strange."

The dog between them sat up on his haunches and whined, and Ledo's disposition brightened considerably.

"Erry-go woss dis? Got ussa steadfas' lil tagalong. Woss yeh name lil fella?"

The dog canted its head slightly as it panted, eyes fixed on the bottle Ledo held.

[Sam Porter]

Was she offended? Maybe. But only a little. After all, this was Ledo Prent, after all. What he considered regular was probably a good thing, and the lanky blonde was quick to let him know it.

"If by 'regular' you mean without some horrid disease or disfiguration, then yes," her grumbled retort was fired off as she reached for the bottle once he was done, "... I suppose I'm not quite exotic enough."

She curled her lip in a quick sneer.

"Which suits me just fine, Your Highness."

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo had already lost the plot the moment Sam tried defending herself, laughing heartily as he poured some booze on the ground between them and the dog inexplicably began to lap it up with gusto.

"Sooves de savage beast!."

Seeing that his amusement was lost on his ball and chain, Ledo's skeevy grin turned stale a bit as he rolled his eyes.

"Awrite den. Bessen we be up off our duffs an pu' da boots t' dem cheeky twats wot done us one."

He glanced down to his bare feet, wiggled his toes, and frowned.

"Bessen we blag ourselfs some boots, fuss."

[Sam Porter]

The nerve! Even with her hand outstretched, he'd given the dog a drink; nevermind that he'd not even put the bottle in her hand, yet!

"Seems the case," she grumped, pulling her hand away, still empty.

Carefully, the blonde began working herself up while Prent did the same. It was a strange thing to see, but she wagered that on Florrum, it wasn't the strangest.

"Maybe we can find a vibro-saw first; get these stupid cuffs off."

[Ledo G. Prent]

"An' miss ou' onna real bondin' ess'perience? Me heart strings doff pro'tess."

Leading on to the swinging doors that led to the adjacent pub, Ledo finished off the backwash of booze remaining, giving the empty bottle a sharp crack against the wall to break the base off and afford him a weapon with a sharp edge. The near-naked duo walked through the doors in tandem as the sounds of shouting and fighting broke out in full force. The booze dog trotted through the swinging doors to follow, immediately followed by a bloodied and shoeless man being thrown the opposite way out into the street. A second shoeless man ran out screaming a few seconds later with a very angry and possibly rabid dog clamped to his crotch by way of snapping jaws.

[Sam Porter]

Screwing her face up into a disgusted expression, Sam took in the scene around her with an air of disdain. A disheveled Shistavenen barreled past, giving her a rough shove as he went by, and the blonde stared after him as if he'd just infected her with the Corellian Plague.

"Seriously... ?"

She rounded back to glare daggers at Prent.

"What in the nine hells are we doing in here? Isn't there somewhere... nicer?"

She caught a whiff of something more than unpleasant, and cringed, her shoulders slumping a bit.

"... and cleaner?"

[Ledo G. Prent]

"A t'ousand pardons, me shinin' dutchess, an I'll tend t' da decor."

Kicking over an unconscious bar patron, Ledo fished out a blaster from his holster and held it precariously to the junction in the stun cuffs.

"Onna couta free. One..."

BLAM!

Wincing and peppering the air with profanity as the stun cuffs last act was to deliver a massive jolt into each party's arm, Ledo dropped the blaster from his grasp as he looked at the smoldering linkage on his now-free hand.

"Cor, that'll smart nex day! Betta dan caf to clear th' ol brainpan though."

The shabby juke joint was in a state of shambles thanks to the conjoined duo's rampage. Tables were upended, patrons fell where they lay with smashed bits of chair lying about them. While Sam looked to find clothes in her size being worn among the fallen, Ledo finished lacing his 'new' boots, and used the newly-appreciated thick soles to march across a sea of crunched glass until he arrived behind the bar. Finding a beer in the cooler, he bit across its metal cap, prying it free with an expert twist before spitting the jagged metal free.

[Sam Porter]

Now free of Prent, Sam set about the task of finding new clothes with a careful sense of... gusto. Not a single article of clothing was near enough clean, and in the end she'd grudgingly settled for a pair of trousers a size too big, and a ragged overshirt that hung from her like a glorified gunnysack. Wiping at her face, the blonde gave a grunt while pulling free an unconscious patron's gunbelt before wrapping it around her own narrow waist and cinching it up as tight as it would go.

Idly moving to the bar, she pulled out the firearm, inspecting it with mild curiosity while leaning on the lacquered bartop.

Slugthrower. Interesting.

Good craftsmanship though, and satisfied with her choice, she reholstered the weapon while gesturing at Ledo to hand her a beer as well.

"Gimme a Sarlacc."

Prent gave her dubious sideways glance, and Sam shrugged.

"Whatever's free."

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Stars align, sheila, we's havin' a special!"

Giving another bottle the bitey treatment, he slid it across her way.

"Wake onnaf dese muppets up, an' less get t' askin' po-litely th' names'f dem tossahs which ab-sconded-like wif our shit."

Ledo took second pick of the litter, up-ending some poor schmuck on the bar to fish off his pants to claim as his own.

[Sam Porter]

She looked rather disdainfully around her, not particularly interested in touching another grimy body. It was bad enough that she was now wearing filthy clothes, and she was certainly in no mood to further hasten the southward trend of her fragile cleanliness.

"You do it," she groused, taking a swig from the bottle.

"My delicate constitution can't handle much more."

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo growled a little, up-ending his beer in a single pull and throwing the bottle into the wall behind him as he belched. He worked to hoist the now-pantsless man upright, and pulled his shirt off to claim it as his own. The last thing to claim was a holster carrying a blaster, and more importantly, a knife. It was a decent enough knife, but not his knife. His beloved old shitty Gamorrean-sticker. Wistful memories came surging forth thinking about all the wonderful places he'd been with that jagged-toothed beauty. All the wonderful people he'd met and ventilated. Together.

"Oi!"

Now dressed and prepared to do his part, Ledo popped the man on the face a few times with a light slap, then hocked and spit on his forehead.

"Up an' at 'em, ya' toss pot. Eyes here."

He snapped his fingers for emphasis as the man came to his senses, then drew the knife he now carried and held the business end a few inches away from the piss flap on the unfortunate guys underoos.

"Sorry bou' th' mess an' all, but Ah'm won'drin if yeh might help me an' dis tall drinka honey here find some mis-allocat'd merchandise?"

[Sam Porter]

The poor schmuck seemed delirious... at least until his lolly-gagged gaze swept downward to the rather sharp edge angled toward his very sparsely covered nethers.

"A... ain't knowin' wot you talkin' 'bout, Guvna... "

From where she stood, it was all too clear. Of course, a bit of drink more than likely had a hand in her disposition at this point in time, and Samantha Elzibet Porter was in no mood for half-assed excuses. She'd woken up essentially chained to a degenerate far more ugly than she was. Not to mention, he'd given drinking privileges to the dog before her. Hell, he'd not even offered her the bottle!

She clutched her bottle by the neck, flipping it upside-down before smashing it along the edge of the bartop. The jagged remains of her now improvised 'pub-razor' were brandished in the general direction of Ledo and his victim.

"You make him tell us where my pants are!"

She fuckin' loved those pants.