Spacebound and Down

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Doo dee doo dee dee dum chjicka dum chjicka dum chjicka...."

Grease-caked hands worked at the bracings on a plasma manifold as music blared in the shop. Cirrsseeto mimed the music as he worked, his bobbing tail keeping time as he paused, moving a hand away for the slightest moment to draw a spanner from his tool belt. The spanner moved like an extension of himself, and with nobody to watch him, Cirrsseeto twirled the tool in his hand like a drummer at a concert before drawing it down squarely on the bolt he needed to adjust.

"Ohhhh baby jit's trrrruuuuuuee...."

Secure! Bounding to his feet, the Cizerack bobbed his head, bouncing on his toes as he picked a de-ionizer off the adjacent work bench, strumming on it like it was a guitar. He paused a moment, passing the leads across the charge distributor, letting the stored energy bleed off into the collector.

"...somethjing somethjing...and leave me blue!"

Sliding along the workspace, Cirrsseeto's hands drummed along the engine casing as he headed to the diagnostic terminal.

"Baby! Yeah! Baby! Yeah! BABYYYYYY!!!!"

The door chime pinged overhead, definitely alien and out of sync with the song. Cirr's ears flicked and his tail stiffened. Suddenly wide-eyed, he killed the music immediately.

"Hello?" He called out timidly.

[Lyanie Quez]

Dinner was the thought pulled off of the backburner while traversing the corridors with a put-on air of nonchalance, as if going to the shop were nothing of note - which it wasn’t! As an engineer, she couldn’t possibly look out-of-place. Occasionally, eyes shifted this way and that, behind, and head craned around the bend… but not so obviously, hands stored away into the pockets of her grease jumper, a hum in her mouth as there often was in engineering when the day was uneventful and there was no-one to yell at.

“So, I’ll just grab that torch and…” then there was the faintest sound of a melody that made her brow crease and her feet stop for a moment, the hum she produced dying for the sake of better hearing the other sounds. After a moment, Lyanie crept slower, then thought it over and revised for a relaxed, strolling gait as she moved closer to the ‘shop door. The recognition of the voice sent a frisson of panic right through her, and one calming breath later, she was going through that door, the chime sounding off against the music.

A soft ‘hello’ confirmed her findings as the music abruptly died. What was he doing here?

“Cirr?” She called out just as cautiously, moving into the room until what came into view stopped her dead in her tracks. She blinked, her thoughts pointing this out as an explanation as to why he hadn’t gone looking for her, himself. She crossed her arms, lips pursing to one side, eyes gathering a good visual of the little vessel that was taking shape.

Not unlike her own, which was scuttled away elsewhere.

“I should’ve known…” were the words that came with a small and disbelieving shake of her head, before her eyes settled on the evidence again with the fresh taint of criticism, "...well, it could be worse."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

At first Cirr gave his better half an eopie-in-the-headlights gawk, his blue eyes wide in the moment of her walking in on his little secret. The CDY-55 runabout was barely recognizable with half her engine guts pulled out and in the throes of a ground-up customization. He'd bought the ship for salvage rates, and had spent the better part of two months making smart adjustments to the plasma vortex scrams. He'd even pulled a few favors to score Sienar control surfaces which would considerably improve maneuvering over the stock Corellian system.

Still, the girl was still in the middle of dressing up. It wasn't decent for other eyes to see her in her state of undress, and Captain Quez wilted in bashful body language, throwing an oily rag over the flyer for the Mimban Run at the last moment in hopes that he'd hide his motives. Fat chance, he thought. Lyanie knew exactly what was coming up in the span of a week. Any spacer worth their spanners in the surrounding six sectors knew about the Mimban Run. He hadn't told her his intentions to enter into the race. It had been the first time he'd been able to get his hands on an engine since becoming the captain of the Novgorod, and the diversion was nearly pornographic. He'd taken every spare moment he could on Dac to head to his rented hangar to work on his still-unnamed ship. So getting caught in the act by his mechanic wife was a surprise.

Something changed in Cirr's expression. Lowered ears ticked back, and his surprise turned to something defensive.

"What do you mean jit could be worrse??"

She was a sexy beast! Or at least, she would be.

[Lyanie Quez]

She smiled, cheshire-like. She shouldn't have been surprised, and even her insides were waxing nostalgic for the last time she'd seen him elbows-deep in something other than... well, never you mind that.

"You could stand a chance. That would be worse," she clarified, "for me."

Oops, did she just admit that? Oh well, cat's out of the bag, as they say. She unfolded her arms and stepped closer to Cirr and the in-progress bird, in a slow way. It could almost be construed as threatening, but she didn't even look angry. She came right up to her captain, her husband, and spoke in a low voice, looking up at him through eyelashes.

"But you're gonna lose. To me."

It had been an age since she last felt the sheer thrum of competition. It was almost like a new drug, all over again.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirrsseeto stepped where Lyanie stepped, in a strange parallel sort of dance, as if to avert her attentions to his cherished pet project. Doubly so when she casually let slip that...

"Wajit, you too?!"

His mouth hung open, lower fangs exposed in surprise. That didn't last long. Cirr smoothed over his expression, tucking his chin slightly as he mimed clearing his throat.

"Errr, jI mean...jI djidn't expect jyou to fjind the tjime wjith all the majintenance worrk on Novgorrod."

Which was a lame smokescreen and he knew it. He'd meddled and pushed at every opportunity to make sure their frigate was in fighting shape, and he had a certain spouse-engineer who hardly required the motivating at all. Even on a bad day, their marauder corvette was purring.

Cirr stepped forward, now fully shielding his work from sight.

"What djid you enterr?" he asked with a hastily applied sabacc face.