Games We Play (Sybella)

[Gunnar Dryden]

Ten Years Prior
Nar Shaddaa


It wasn't his usual measures for an assassination. Specific instructions were given to get close to his mark this time, likely to add that twisting of the knife at the very end. There was a hefty bonus though for following through with the added task given. He'd sculpted his place well, taking the place of a friend of his on Nar Shaddaa. It took the right people mentioning the right place to guide her where she needed to be. His 'business' couldn't be anything associated with the syndicate she had taken in with under false pretense, because she would always need some deeper level of security away from the lies.


The shop was an offshoot from a local nightclub, a location for people to buy drugs, weapons, information. Really, anything one could want. The office required an escort to through the thong of people dancing, drinking, and enjoying themselves. Within Gunnar sifted through a crate of Verpine Shatter Rifles, illegal in most location. He inspected each meticulously, and took inventory of them, disassembling weapons atop the desk and surveying each component. It was still all a ruse, but one familiar enough to him from his dealings with the real proprietor. His comm chirped a warning of his visitor, prompting him to take a moment to get his game face on. He left the crate open for it's attractiveness to a sniper, but otherwise took a seat at the desk to await the woman's arrival.


He sat ready for her, as would likely be expected of him at that point. She would know her arrival had been called ahead to him, and so he took the professional stance of awaiting her entrance. She would naturally be disarmed and checked for weapons, entering into his 'turf'. It would shift that feeling of control, which was necessary in establishing their relationship from the beginning.

[Sybella]

Kelane Vorsa was the exact opposite of Sybella; dim witted, arresting, and positively oozing charisma. She was the perfect fit for a group like the Shattered Nebula, a crime syndicate on the rise in the underworld of Nar Shaddaa. While the persona had scored her a place among their number, she had always worked within the realm of the clandestine before now; sniper rifles, poisons, and other subtle means to see her mission met. Now, she was positioned perfectly but lacked the means to take out a large number of individuals simultaneously. Qurvo Jasst, Shattered Nebula's Devaronian mastermind, surrounded himself with a collection of thugs with tempers just as bad as his; fortunately for her, he had an eye for provocative women and Kelane certainly fit the bill. It was one of Phaedra Vael's local contacts who had directed her to Gunnar Dryden, a supplier three levels up from her zone of operation. The nightclub served as an adequate front if any of Qurvo's goons happened to spot her hanging about, the dress she wore certainly raked attention her way when she stepped into the boisterous establishment.

High heels clicking on the lighted floor, Sybella approached the bouncer stationed near the VIP area. She was expected but she could tell from the look on the guy's face that she was equally unexpected in other regards. A muffled alert was spoken into his comm unit and then the shimmering, opaque curtain separating the uninformed from the enlightened was peeled back to admit her entry into a long, dimly lit corridor painted in crimson hues. Her footsteps clicked louder but were still swallowed up by the incessant thump of the club's outrageous sound system. At the end of the hall, she was intercepted by two human males who looked intensely pleased with what was going to happen next. She was searched, felt up really, and then the door to Gunnar Dryden's office was pushed open to admit her entrance. She winked at the two before she stepped inside, the black panels of her strategically slit dress floating about her long, shapely legs as the door was shut behind her and air pressure promptly changed.

What sat behind the desk was not at all what she was expecting but the surprise was expertly warded from her expression, her tongue sliding slowly over her lipstick adorned mouth and glossing it in a thin sheen of moisture. Her stare was predatory and the previous oral gesture would lead one to think that she was a woman with a particular... appetite.

"Gunnar Dryden, I presume." She stated in her naturally sensuous voice, her vivid-lavender eyes dipping to one of the crates left open in the office. She approached it slowly, her body dipping and her fingers lovingly caressing one of the Verpine shatter rifles stored within. Her long, navy hued hair cascaded over one shoulder and she pushed it back deliberately, her eyes flicking to meet his. "Mmmm... already trying to appeal to your customer. Smart. You aren't going to be a bore and tell me I can't touch, are you?"

[Gunnar Dryden]

He heard the rustling on the other side of the doors, the overconfident chuckling of his two door guards as they no doubt went through surveying her for weapons. He had seen an image of the woman, knowing that he would have been tempted just as they likely were to take their search further then they should have. A woman like her, in a dangerous line of work likes hers, was no doubt desensitized to those small details though. She could be objectified, but she would likely keep her composure because it was the mark of a true cold blooded assassin. The problem was, warm blood ran through their veins.


He hadn't even been expecting the sight that came to greet him. He knew she was beautiful, but he wasn't expecting the revealing dress. He'd actually expected something like a form fitting body suit, which was keen to show her features but chaste on what skin it allowed. This was not the case here though, and he found himself struggling for a moment for his composure. It instantly set him off, frustrated that she had gotten the upper hand so quickly in their encounter, but that was an emotion he kept contained well.


"Do they appeal to you?" He questioned, knowing the answer. "I might have known what kind of tech you'd like, but those aren't for you." It was him making an attempt to wrest control back, put a tease of something she liked out there, and then pull the plate away. "I doubt the buyers will mind if you acquaint yourself with them. I might even be able to squeeze a few more credits out, saying I brought in an expert to survey the goods." That statement was made with the brief dip of his eyes across the backside of her frame. It was times like these he lamented that his female marks were not hideous enough for his liking. He kept himself distanced though, playing the part, keeping his cool. "How are you adjusting to Nar Shaddaa? I admit I expected you a bit sooner."

[Sybella]

"Oh?" She murmured, her expression immediately appearing crestfallen and she aimed the full impact of it right at him. She let her disappointment linger for a moment before she dipped her hands into the crate and hefted one of the weapons in her grasp. She guided it expertly, situating the stock of the weapon into the cradle of her shoulder and canting her right orbital socket to the scope. "That's too bad." She added, immediately relinquishing the weapon back into the indentation in the crate she'd pried it from. Once it was safely tucked away, she angled her body toward him more receptively. Her eyes moved down his frame openly, appreciating the stature of the man before her.

"Nar Shaddaa is far too bright for my Umbaran eyes, truth be told. I miss the endless twilight of my homeworld." Whether that was true or not was anyone's guess. She slanted him a coy smile, twirling a lock of incredibly dark, navy hair around her left index finger. "As it happens, I've been busy. So, you'll have to excuse my tardiness. Your establishment does not disappoint, though. I only wish I had more time to enjoy the club itself. I do love to dance." She lamented while slowly making her way closer to him, stopping with mere inches to separate them. Her chest heaved in a sigh and that strand of hair was twirled loose. "Show me what I can have, Mr. Dryden. I cannot stay for long."

[Gunnar Dryden]

He stole a glance away in their conversation, a contemplative motion that was common to conversation with him. "Yeah, all the neons out there can be a bit of an eyesore." When his gaze returned, his eyes found her twirling her hair about a finger. "Busy..." He stated distractedly, following through with an affirmation back to focus. "Yes, I imagine getting situated has been a bit complicated. Not many respect what a woman can do." He quirked a partial smile that was quick to disappear. He glanced towards the door with her disappointed remark, nodding, then back to her. "You're always welcome back, when you find more time. Buyers can find themselves an easy ticket to VIP." As with those that purchased other of his illegal goods, he attempted to appeal to their return visit with specialized treatment.


He moved back to his desk, seated at the edge. He mood shifted, and it felt as if he was trying her patience. That was fine, he wasn't going to rush things. He needed to get close, it was the specialized clause of the job. "What do you want? Rifles? Explosives?" His head took a cant to the side, a brief glance towards the box of rifles. "It would be easier if I knew what you had planned really, but I guess our relationship hasn't reached that stage yet. Give me some heads up, and I can get you want you want." His eyes took a brief glance up and down her frame, before inclining his chin. "Assuming you have some way to pay for what you want."

[Sybella]

"You can tell a lot from a person based on their methods. I think, Mr. Dryden, you'll be able to glean an adequate understanding of my plans from what I'm about to request." She replied slowly, continuing to walk around his office and inspect everything with muted interest. A packet of plastic encased, singular rounds rested on his desk and she picked them up, wagging the long train of them at him with a faint smile. "I require a supply of Kashyyyk adreno-darts, three-point-eight centimeters, with volfram filaments. I should need no more than three; although, as I understand, they generally come in sets of five and are very expensive." She set the rounds back down carefully and then canted her hip, coming to sit on the edge of his desk adjacent to him.


The position was strategic in a way, allowing her to part the side of her dress to reveal a lacy garter circling her shapely thigh and a freshly loaded credit chip tucked into it. She grinned at him. "I can pay." She assured him, laying the stick down on his desk. With her hands free, she braced them behind her and tossed her head to keep her slanted bangs out of her face. "Do you have respect for what a woman can do, Mr. Dryden?" She asked curiously, teasingly readjusting the hem of her dress by shifting her legs while her heels dangled off the edge of his desk by a few inches.

[Gunnar Dryden]

She was right about that. His methods, at least with the persona he had worked to craft, saw him appeal to those that purchased to him, making that effort to graduate it towards a dependence. He tried to make what he provided a drug, since a decent portion of his clientele sought an addiction of some variety any way. His eyes took a fleeting dip to the rounds she held, because the movement succeeded in disturbing his focus, before it settled back upon her features. He mentally checked off what she needed, already preparing the information of how they came, but cut off from having to by the knowledge she already had on what she sought. “Not a common request, and so not easy to come by.” That was obviously as suggestive of cost, as her statement regarding price.


As he saw it, the darts really only had one use, but how she would take advantage of that he hadn’t established. If he had to guess, he figured she sought to work her way up by discrediting those above her. She wouldn’t do so directly, but maybe have them display their lack of reliability. It was clever to keep them off her trail, if that was indeed the plan. His eyes dipped down at the part in her dress, and the credit chip slid down onto the table beside him. He could feel the quickening of his pulse in his temples, against his chest, and began to question just who was tempting who for a moment.


He slid off his desk that small amount that saw his boots go flat, and turned partially towards her. His left hand fell atop the credit chip, fingers curling to draw it beneath his palm. Another quarter turn, and he was only slightly offset from being squared off with her. His second hand pressed to the desk on the other side of her hip, torso bent forward to keep them from having much contact but to infringe upon her personal space and have him lean over her. “I know what a woman can do.” He left it at that, dragging his palm with the credit chip off the table, and straightening his frame with a step backward to give her space. “When do you need them by?” The longer he had, the more he could negotiate a price to get her a better deal. He would then keep the credit chip as a deposit towards her next purchase, his aim to keep her and his other clients coming back.

[Sybella]

He was a dangerous man, that much was evident to her. A slow smile spread across her purple-hued lips as he drew closer, causing her faithfully steady pulse to race. Flirtation was not a common tactic of her's, usually reserved for particular individuals who required extra work in the social aspect of the game rather than a short and sweet bullet between the eyes. He was by no means far removed from her pending hit list; however, she was beginning to think it'd be a crying shame if her handler ordered his demise as a means of clean-up. It wasn't often that a man could stir her cold, unfeeling blood but there was definitely something there when he violated her personal space.

As he drew away, Sybella stretched her high heel adorned feet toward the floor and rose to a stand. "Two weeks." She stated simply, gauging his expression for a reaction to the tight time frame. If he was as good as rumored, it would be no problem. Regardless, she began moving toward the door; she did, after all, have other appointments for the day. "As a personal request, if you can dig up a Verpine rifle that wows me, you can keep what's left on the chip. Either way, I'll see you in two weeks. It's been my pleasure, Mr. Dryden."

[Gunnar Dryden]

All she was able to gauge was neutrality. He played it all close to the chest, not betraying whether it would be difficult or easy, being that enigmatic individual that would keep her guessing. She began to move towards the exit, and he considered for a moment if there had been any missteps he had taken. No, he was certain he had played things just as he needed for the time being, and now he just neded to impress her with punctuality. He gave a last nod, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Our mutual pleasure." He assured her the meeting had been equally enjoyed, letting her depart.


Two weeks came and went quickly. He had acquired everything she had asked for, but only carried the darts on his person. He wore a black jacket, ripe with pockets, the left breast one containing the darts she desired. He made the staff aware of the woman he was waiting for, with instructions to direct her up to the VIP Lounge that overlooked the rest of the club. He sat in a lone chair, with high cushioned arms that curved into a raised back. His lounge was located right against that balcony lip, a glass divider allowing him to overlook the crowd.


In his periphery he noticed one of his VIP bouncers speaking into his comm unit, and his attention drifted off to seek out his guest. Other patrons conversed, drank and dance in VIP, but most stayed at a distance unless the bouncers would allow them closer. For Sybella, she would receive the precise guidance she needed to find him and join him in the only other chair located nearby.

[Sybella]

"We'll see how useful Mr. Dryden is shortly, I'm outside his establishment as we speak." Sybella said to the cloaked, transparent figure perched upon her holo-communicator. It was rare for Phaedra Vael to contact her directly when she was under cover but this was a delicate matter, so she could understand the woman's required, frequent updates. The hybrid-Umbaran stood, shadowed in a tight alleyway mere steps away from her desired destination; the flickering lights of the city street beyond catching the glimmering facets of her racy evening dress.

"You will be hearing from me again soon, Sybella."

The sniper deactivated the holo platform and slid it into the thigh holster hidden beneath the folds of her dress, moving out of the alley and into the radiant, multihued lights of the boulevard. She bypassed the line at the night club's entry with a nod from the bouncer and headed inside, moving onto the main floor of the establishment and waiting. In little time at all, she was directed toward the VIP lounge where she was advised Gunnar would be waiting. The slits of her dress parted to expose the creamy expanse of her toned thighs as she ascended the rounded staircase, the sound of her high heels clicking devoured by the thrum of music that permeated the club.

She moved before his chair, bestowing a mischievous smile upon him. "We meet again. Fortunately for us both, I have more time on my hands this evening."

[Gunnar Dryden]

The constantly fluctuating lighting made it difficult to find her for her skin and hair color, especially with such a diverse crowd of species. It was her garments that actually saw Gunnar picking her out of the crowd well before she made it to VIP. That dress on any frame like hers would have drawn his attention, and so when he did find her he hadn’t even been intending to. He traced her path through the crowd, until she reached the staircase that would bring him to his level, at which time she fell out of sight but promised her arrival.


He sat back to await her final approach, arms widely rested against the rests of his chair. “Is that why you’re dressed to kill?” He withheld the desired twitch of the corner of his lips that sought to express his humor with his own question, instead leaving it to feel unintentional if she chose to take it that way. He wondered to what aims she was flirting with him. To her, he should have been a means to an end, and so he wondered what other ends she had that her means would fall to flirtation. He didn’t really mind, but he knew how dangerous she could be, and he had to keep his guard up.


His fingers bit into the plush cushions, leaving behind temporary indentations after he had risen to a stand. “Let’s move elsewhere.” He wanted to be more out of sight for their business, versus the vantage point they had being easily visible from any on the ground floor. He took to another part of the VIP section, a large semi-circle couch with a small table before it for drinks to be set upon. Guards drew the sheer screening cloth closed around them, their silhouettes visible but enough obstruction to mask who they were. He sat himself first, and on the holo display set in the center of the table he punched in his drink order to be delivered in short order.


“I am guessing you don’t plan to bring your rifle with you.” She’d certainly have a hard time moving unnoticed with it or the case it was presently disassembled into as she was. “We dealing with business first?”

[Sybella]

His question made her smile. Not the kind of smile she would bestow upon her mark; in truth, there was nothing fake about her amusement at the inquiry he posed. White teeth flashed in the colorful atmosphere of the nightclub, the swiveling of overhead lights far more subdued in the VIP lounge she found herself in. It was reply enough and he was soon rising from his solitary chair, her eyes dipping across the veins protruding on his forearms as he pushed himself up from the glossy leather. Even with her high heels, he was still several inches taller than her, and it was with this observation that her smile became a bit more secretive.

She followed after him, approaching the semi-circular booth and slipping within the sheer curtain held open by the guards. She settled onto the plush seat, sidling close enough to him to invoke curiosity but far enough away that conversation could still be kept professional. After he punched in his drink order, Sybella reached over and ordered a purple martini with a twist for herself. "I'm guessing you'll think it will impress me." She quipped with that same mischievous grin from before, leaning her face into her folded palms. There was a certain playfulness to her demeanor this evening, something more befitting her eighteen years and outward appearance.

As to his second question. "I had hoped to dance at some point this evening. However, we can get all of the boring stuff out of the way before I go about finding a partner."

[Gunnar Dryden]

“Do you really think I’d come back with a poor quality rifle? What kind of footing would I be starting on with my products?” The moment he left, he’d resolved he wouldn’t bring a rifle to the table that couldn’t hold up to a certain standard, but he did want to bring her one to establish a truly positive footing. “The rifle is in my office though, so that can wait.” Assuming she didn’t end up so inebriated that she was unlikely to bring it back with her, but if that was the case there were solutions.


Since she had expressed finishing business first, he withdrew the small case from his inner jacket pocket, setting it on the table just before her. Only three were within the case, but that was what she had asked for. Instead he had taken the funds he could save from charging her for two darts she wouldn’t use, and put it into ensuring the finest quality for the rifle that awaited her. “Exactly as you ordered, though if you’re wondering about the other two, I kept them for future sales. You’ll approve of my reasoning later.”


Already having her credits, and her now having the case of darts, he gave a mild shrug and turned his attention away to check the status of the approaching drinks. “So, that about sums up business for now.” Easy as that, really. He folded his jacket pocket back down, and smoothed a hand over his chest. “So what does a trained killer look for in a dancing partner?”

[Sybella]

"I'm not quite sure what to make of you, Mr. Dryden." She confessed with a faint smile, nodding her head in understanding when he imparted that the rifle was in his office. It could wait, despite her burgeoning excitement. She turned her attention down to the slim case holding the darts she had ordered, flicking open the lid and admiring the rare injectors with a guarded expression. A moment later, she snapped the lid close and then whisked the case beneath the table, stowing the darts in a leather garter encircling her toned thigh. "You do not disappoint." She informed him curtly, all business for that brief moment in time.

The waitress moved to the table with their ordered drinks balanced on a metal tray. Napkins were situated before them both and then their glasses, her playful attitude sliding back into place upon observing the strong cocktail she had ordered. Her pale stare flicked to him at his question, her lips fastening upon the rim of the glass after it was lifted to them. She sipped cautiously and then sighed in a sign of her approval. The martini glass was relinquished and she angled her body toward him. "I suppose I look for the same thing in a dance partner as I would a lover, Mr. Dryden. He must be possessive but anchoring, trustworthy, and skilled. Where do you suppose I could find someone like that?"

[Gunnar Dryden]

Beneath the table, he drew his right leg up to rest the ankle of that foot atop his knee. His arm at her side stretched across the back of the booth, but with her small distance it did not take the illusion of making an effort to reach about her shoulders. His second hand rested atop the table, fingers curled in a relaxed fashion around the glass. When she inspected the darts, he brought his drink upwards to sip from while gauging her expression. That brief appraisal of her was interrupted when she lowered the case downwards. The mystery of where she stowed the case piqued his curiosity, a barely noticeable tightening of his eyes and raise of his eyebrows nearly hidden behind the rim of his glass.


“Hm, well there’s your problem. In this life, you’ll have a hard time finding anyone you can truly trust.” It was a cynical outlook on life, but one most learned from experience. He realized the brief falter in his mission there, not that he cast distrust on himself, but that he had made himself likely unappealing for his honesty in that moment. “I’m not sure what all I can give you, but I can give you a dance partner, and we can just let the rest figure itself out.” He transitioned quickly, hoping that his efforts to let spontaneity take its course might redirect them back down the direction of the job he was assigned to.


In one swift motion, he downed his drink then slid out of the booth away from her. He rounded the table, offering his hand down to the young woman who had previously been his client, and was now his guest.

[Sybella]

He had not dismissed her other requirements but it seemed he replied with more thought given to the generality of the prerequisites rather than what she'd want from a dance partner. In truth, she could not fault his reply; she agreed with him wholeheartedly, in fact. In her line of work, placing one's trust in someone was an invitation for mistakes. But, she was not anticipating that mistake to be tempted into fruition from someone that her handler had recommended as an accessory to the job. In fact, staring down at his hand and listening to the steady thrum of the music ensured that suspicions of duplicity were the furthest thing from her mind.

Sybella slid along the booth and placed her slim hand into his outstretched palm, inwardly reflecting on the warmth of his skin in comparison to her own pleasantly cool flesh. She rose and as she did so, took a step forward so she was a merely breath away from melding her form fully against his own. "You're asking me to play a dangerous game, Gunnar. But, you are a tempting enough offer that I cannot refuse."

And shortly thereafter, they headed down to the dance floor; her teasing of their personal boundaries no longer a thought. The nightclub was a living entity, she noticed as she set foot on the main dais. The music was the pulse, the roving crowd of people served as the vessels, and the roiling heat was a byproduct of their friction. After several dances, Sybella tugged him away for more drinks. She had found on numerous occasions during their activities that she wanted to know more about him; which was not something she often ventured with potential lovers and especially not business associates.

"You dance very well, very instinctive. Tell me, Mr. Dryden..." She flagged down the bartender at the main bar, forsaking the lounge upstairs for convenience. "What did you do before all of this?"

[Gunnar Dryden]

It was easy to lose himself in his objective. What should have just been a part played, at times felt like a part lived. That line blurred so much that he didn't even notice the difference in some instances, and where he should have taken a step back and made enough distance to reorganize his thoughts and objective, he couldn't risk doing so without jeopardizing his entire goal. He let himself be carried away, complicating the job, but with promises to himself that he would sort his thoughts out and get his head straight. He focused on the physicality of their relationship as much as he could for a distraction, and their dance was assuredly physical and a distraction. When they left the dance floor, he welcomed the reprieve from the crowds which had only been dampened and accepted due to the company.

Their retreat wasn't as private as he might have liked, but it would fall in line with her present desires. At the bar, he neglected the stool to remain close, posting one hand against the bar on the side of her hip opposite where he stood, trapping her in. "Professional dancer. Coruscanti Ballet. Can't you tell?" He teased, his posturing evident by the smug smirk that caused his lips to twitch upwards. She expected a serious answer as some point, and so better sooner than later. He kept things honest, but he didn't need to go into full details. "Bounty Hunter, not too dissimilar to what you do, only it was for the credits not for an organization. Before that, all kinds of things a kid of the streets would do to get by." That involved gangs, thievery, and all sorts of illicit deeds that should have left him dead in a gutter by now. "Have you ever known anything other than your current life?" His head gave a slight tilt, a brow quirking challenging. "Or, would you like to?" He wasn't propositioning, but fishing, to see what he caught and what he could do with it.

[Sybella]

Admittedly, his quip was amusing. She felt herself smile genuinely, turning her face away from him to help conceal her mirth which she recognized within herself as some sort of weakness. Instead of looking directly at him, her eyes trailed down the length of his arm which was juxtaposed just so near her hip. Skilled, anchoring, possessive. He had seemingly fulfilled the majority of her requirements without the obvious intent to do so. Sybella was a distrusting individual by nature, however, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of demonstration to earn her trust. What possible reason could he desire her trust for? Beyond becoming a repeat customer and a notch on his bedpost, she couldn't fathom one.

She listened to his explanation of his occupation intently, her hand extending toward that arm and trailing her nails along the radial seam of muscle. The caress halted short of his shoulder at his own inquiry, her face angling to the side to look past him at the roving crowds. For a moment or two, there was a hint of longing as she observed the club goers, free of obligations and simply enjoying their uninhibited lives. Then, as swiftly as the longing had appeared, it was extinguished behind a defiant mask of pure solemnity she aimed right at him. "No. I have not. I've never considered it."

[Gunnar Dryden]

She may have flipped that switch and turned on the cold demeanor he would have attributed to an assassin, but he'd seen another side of her that she would no longer be able to hide. He also made note that while had dismissed it had never been something she considered, she didn't respond to whether it was something she would have wanted to. He could use that. Would use that.


"But you'd like to." He didn't let himself be pushed away by her suddenly frosty exterior. Instead he made a bold move. He didn't give her a chance to respond. With her armor up, she was likely to brush it off. Her guard needed to be down, for her to be vulnerable. The first indication of his actions would have been felt by the hand on his shoulder, which pressed more into her palm as he moved forward. His other hand rose towards her face, passing back just behind her cheek to steady her face but curl around the back of her neck and keep her in place. Then he kissed her, and his entire body sank forward against hers, swallowing her entire surrounding world up with his presence.

[Sybella]

He wasn't buying her front. She might have guessed that a bounty hunter turned businessman might know a thing or two about carefully constructed facades. Her pulse started to thrum as his hand found hers at his shoulder, her eyes darting down to his touch and then up to his face when he grasped her cheek. Her mind scrambled for some means of defense and the only meek imitation of one she could grasp at that point in time revolved around embracing the persona of Kelane Vorsa. But, instantly the barricade of personality was shattered when she realized that she didn't want him to kiss that woman. She wanted him to kiss her, Sybella. Wanted it more than she'd ever let herself want something before.

She tipped her head back slightly into his grasp and surrendered to it, her eyes slipping closed as his mouth fastened over her's. She was pleasantly assailed by the intensity of his presence; all encompassing, warm, and undeniably male. She found herself pressing forward as he did, her other arm wending around his waist; her hand sliding beneath his untucked shirt to stroke the broad muscles of his back.

[Gunnar Dryden]

He'd almost forgotten the purpose of the kiss, and in some parts if the purpose instead had gotten miscontrued. He had a job to do, like her, but that was growing increasingly difficult. The kiss persisted, intensified by her reciprocation, and their proximity was brought as close and intense as when they had formerly been dancing only instead of a tease, it had a very real purpose and aim fueled by a combination of their desires.


Before he could even realize he said the words, they came out. "Have dinner with me tomorrow." He knew their time now was drawing to a close. He had no real plan involving them going out on a 'date', the suggestion just kind of happened, and he had to roll with it as far as it would go now. Their was no hint of letting her have her space, as if his looming presence would steer her towards the desired response. No room to deny him. No room for him to mentally argue why he shouldn't do what he was doing, and rescind the offer. No room for anything, on either side.

[Sybella]

Her eyes widened slightly at his invitation, her brows furrowing in confusion. Dinner suggested conversation and intimacy beyond the physical relationship that had flourished between them. She gazed deeply into his eyes, leaning back a measure as she contemplated his offer. It was unwise, considering the plans she was to be setting into motion within the next couple of days; she had the instruments of her mark's downfall at the ready and thus had no reason to delay. Once her mission was met, she would return to Umbara and probably never see Gunnar Dryden thereafter. What harm could come from delaying just a bit longer and enjoying herself, then?

"All right." She agreed smoothly, running her hand across the muscular plane of his chest. She was caught up in the appeal of him, her emotions shutting down the cool logic that had kept her alive thus far. "You can pick me up at Grande Plaza Hotel tomorrow at seven o'clock." One of her mentor's rules, never reveal to an unknown factor the location of your temporary residence. "I'd better get back. Qurvo will be missing me." She murmured, slipping away from him and into the thick crowd of club goers. Her heart raced, tripping to the rhythm of danger. She would see what Gunnar would do with this trust she had placed in him.

And if he betrayed her, she would destroy him.

[Gunnar Dryden]

Small victories were what kept him believing he was doing the right thing, and not taking his ruse too far. Dinner might have been too far, but he justified it by finding out where she stayed without having to tail her, and risk exposing himself. The place she stayed suggested wealth, and really spoke to the capabilities of the organization she worked for. It was likely far larger and more organized than anything he had ever been a part of. And now he worked independently. It was better that way, avoiding the situations Sybella found herself in presently.


He walked to the Grande Plaza, because a walk to their destination would be more personal he believed. That, coupled with the district she stayed within, and finding a fancy location nearby was easy. He arrived approximately five minutes early, but lingered just long enough in the lobby to cut down the time he was early by to instead be prompt. At 6:59 he was knocking on her door. She'd seen him in nice enough clothes, but he went all out for the sake of her and their destination, a black on black on black (http://undeadwalking.com/files/2016/03/0865-highlight-56fc72ed1ac98.jpg), shirt tie and jacket combo.


He was of course armed, a shoulder holster beneath his jacket with two individual blaster pistols. Going out without them, would be like shedding a regular necessary accessory. Outside her door, he posted a single arm up on the frame, tipping his head downward, listening for her approaching steps.

[Sybella]

Nimble hands swept thick strands of navy hair into a half-up, half-down style; pinned in place by a bejeweled comb, the blush colored gems of which gleamed with the same opalescence as her dress (http://www.fashiongonerogue.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Jennifer-Lopez-Pink-Dress-Reem-Acra-2014-American-Music-Awards.jpg) for the evening. Periwinkle eyes drifted toward the displays set up in her closet, running feed from the micro-cameras she'd set up in the lobby, elevators, and corridor leading to her temporary residence. She had watched him linger in the lobby, clipping an ornate set of earrings into her ears, and she had watched him wait in the lift as it rose toward her floor. He always looked good; but this evening, he had pulled out all the stops.

She was just slipping her high heels on when he appeared at her door, the automatic apertures of the fine cabinetry sliding closed to conceal her tech. Grabbing her clutch, which contained a hold out blaster and a few other small tools of the trade, she approached the door and opened it. There had been no knock and so when she opened the door, she feigned surprised delight. She drank in the full sight of him, admiring the way the suit he wore hugged his musculature just right. "Hello, handsome.." She purred, the hand not supporting her clutch extending to brush against his ebony tie.

[Gunnar Dryden]

No words. He had no words the moment she opened the door, and he saw her. He knew she attractive, sexy would even be a better way to describe her, but her appearance that evening was literally stunning. He had no words and no actions. Her greeting was answered only with that stunned, "Wow." Her banded, the best word he could mentally describe her outfit, dress exposed her skin in all the right ways that would draw his focus to her taut abdominal muscles, which framed their way up to the curves of other parts of her body he found himself even more aware of then he had the night before.

"Look at you." And look he did. He reached out, taking her hand from his tie gently, guiding her to give him a spin. When she turned, he saw the musculature of her back, a certain definition that was not masculine, but definitely reflected a level of fitness that he found sexy. There were people in the galaxy, xenophobes, who might frown on the color of her skin and this intermixing of races, but he found her entirely exotic. "I better not take you anywhere too crowded, someone might try to make off with you." And he truly believed that. He wanted to keep her close, private. He almost didn't even want to leave.

"I guess we better get going, reservations and all." He begrudgingly conceded that she had gotten dressed for him to take her out, not gawk at her for several moments until she realized just how much power she had to hold him as her thrall. His arm offered her a gentlemanly escort out, not the kind of side that would have been seen by the Arms Dealer, Bounty Hunter, Club Owner. All the guises he had put on, and that might have been true. He took her out the lobby onto the upper levels walkway. The restaraunt of choice was just far enough to not be at the Hotel's lobby, but not so far that they couldn't have a walk to enjoy each others company.

Those upper level walkways, while not entirely private, still gave them the space to walk together unimpeded and without the feeling of necessity to be quiet out of some sort of misguided shyness. Idle conversation kept them, the general kind to warm them up to the idea of a night together. The restaraunt didn't have as many tables as would be expected for such a large establishment. There was easily room to cram more tables into the middle floor, but they opted against that to put favor towards the more secluded booths. They had just the same, where a sheer curtain arced from the middle at the top outward, bunched together where it was tied, then draped. Privacy could be extended by letting the ties out, but until their orders were taken and delivered no such thing would happen.

"Was that dress a work expense? I have to wonder how many times you've worn it." It was fancy, very fancy, and she was young. How many opportunities had she had to show off in such a way. Was he the first? The booth itself they sat in was a curve three-quarters circle, but he didn't aim to sit across from her but rather had moved in on the same side as her when she sat. He turned, draping an arm across the back of the seat, and lifting a leg up just partially onto the booth seat. It helps him angle towards her, so he could talk at her and look at her while still keeping that personal proximity.

[Sybella]

Sybella had been fawned over before for her beauty, her reaction always being outward gratitude while she kept her unimpressed attitude on the inside. Hearing such praise from Gunnar, however, invoked an entirely new set of reactions from the half-Umbaran. He twirled her about, his eyes taking everything her strappy evening dress had to offer, and she felt rather embarrassed and pleased with herself all at once.

"They could try." She replied under her breath, tilting her head and offering him a slight smile. She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to escort her from the building. It was a short walk and he did not want for her attention, despite the fact that she seemed to take in every passerby with shrewd interest. She kept up with conversation and even went so far as to probe him for more personal history, always respectfully of course. People in her line of work understood very well the necessity of privacy.

Eventually, they arrived at the restaurant. She lapsed into silence as she took in the opulent surroundings. It wasn't the kind of place her mark would be caught dead in and thus she had grown unused to the finer things while infiltrating his glorified gang. She sat next to him, pressing her thigh tightly against his own and sliding him a slow, secretive smile. "It's true that my organization foots the bill for a number of my ensembles. But, this dress I purchased earlier this evening with you in mind."

A finely dressed waiter appeared at their table and she ordered a red wine without looking at the menu. The man nodded and then waited for Gunnar's drink order before departing.

"I can't say that I've ever been on a real date before."

[Gunnar Dryden]

Living the lie shouldnt have been so difficult, but it was. She questioned him on his background, and he was forced to lie and lie some more. He could derive some of his story from truth, but he had to be careful. It had actually required practicing, truly telling himself who he was now, instead of just letting things come naturally. Fortunately, his rehearsed story was passable, probably because she was genuinely feeling something for him and no longer as closely scrutinizing. That was good, in at least some sense.

It should have been mission accomplished, or at least on track, but he wouldn't let himself think of it like that right now. "Bring a bottle of her selection and two glasses." He opted to take the same direction as her for beverage, flipping the food menu open with his right hand, but not letting it steal his attention. "Well here's to hoping I don't make your first experience a terrible one." Without their wine delivered thus far, he took his water glass and gave it a tap to her own atop the table, following that pseudo toast up with setting the drink down to the side.

In truth, while he had taken women out before and made small talk, she was something different. She came from a similar world as him, and small talk hardly seemed sufficient, but so did discussion on their work. It left him a bit unsure of himself, a feeling he wasn't used to. In his uncertainty, he did what he wanted to avoid. "Plans moving along? How much longer will you be here?"

-------

A pair of Jasst's thugs waited in an alleyway off shooting the path Gunnar and Sybella had taken, catching the pair passing them for the restaraunt. It didn't seem as if they had been noticed, but that was easy with how distracted by each other the pair seemed to be, and how little of time they found themselves in actual line of sight of the two. The two could have their dinner, and then when complacency had set in, they could take her. For now they waited, a different pair of watchers now in place so as to not let the two feel a familiar set of eyes witnessing them leaving the restaurant.

[Sybella]

Her first experience with a real date was far from terrible. They touched on work matters only briefly, in which she informed him that she planned to move on her target within the next two days; suspending further details due to the public setting they loitered in. Dinner was delicious, he was so good to look at, and she probably drank more wine than she should have. Once the dinner was done, their check settled, she linked her arm through his and allowed him to escort her from the premises. The night air rushed over her flushed face as the automatic doors to the building shot open, a soft chortle of amusement escaping her as the sudden gust teased a few tendrils of her long, ink-and-navy hued hair.

As it happened, high heels were significantly harder to manage with the wine she had imbibed. She leaned heavily into his arm, hip-to-hip with him as they strolled down the boulevard in the direction of her current residence. "I wasn't planning on sticking around after all things were said and done. But, I guess I could lay low here for a while with the right incentive." She murmured, more to herself than to him, a thoughtful expression in place. She swirled a strand of hair around one finger, canting her head back to peer at him; completely oblivious to those that watched from the shadows of the building they passed in front of.

"Did... did you want to come up?"

[Gunnar Dryden]

He’d gotten close, just as planned. Wined. Dined. Flirtation. It was the end he should have seen coming, and he even wanted. He didn’t want it just for the physical pleasure of it though. His plan was forgotten for the time being, wrapped up more in the moment than what was to happen. Mav’s little test. These upper levels were not as prone to the same dangers as the lower levels, but occasionally more organized groups did stray up top for specific purposes. It was in those instances that law enforcement was usually scarce for one reason or another.

He hadn’t seen the entryway to the apartment building up ahead the way he should have, figures loitering at the door, or the bench across the way, even the rail overlooking the large chasm down below. “Sure.” It was around that time he did notice the group of men just ahead standing or orienting towards them. He focused forward more than he should have, unaware of the alley flank that held a few more men.

“We need to have some words with the lady.” He held back a knowing expression, as it clicked who these men were. Instantly his mind rolled over the possibility of a different plan, one in which he saved her, and gained her trust further through that. “You’re ruining date night. Try leaving her a message.” He remarked, and yet chose to make the first blow. However just as he took a cheap shot at the leading thug, others came from the alley. Two speared his side, taking him off balance and causing him to sidestep a few paces.

He dropped one elbow into a man, before he lost his footing and was taken down. A foot lashed out, striking a jaw, and he gathered himself enough for another charging thug. He dipped, went for the legs and lifted to toss him down the chasm behind the rail, only to be swarmed by three other men. He couldn’t see what was happening with Sybella, working to defend himself and find some form of purchase or freedom to make a stand from.

[Sybella]

We need to have some words with the lady...

Damnit. She hadn't even seen them, hadn't heard them skulking about. What was worse, her back was to them as she had turned to ascend the steps of her temporary dwelling. Her eyebrows knit together as she silently ran through the motions of forming a plan. It wasn't like Gunnar, not that she knew him all that well, to take their interruption without recourse. The sound of fists meeting flesh caused her to whip around and she let out a gasp as he was taken to the ground by Qurvo's goons.

"Boss ain't pleased, pretty bird. You know you belong to him." One of the men not involved with the fight whistled, watching as they wrangled Gunnar and began dragging him toward the railing where they intended to pitch him over. Her heart hammered, the first instance of this sensation since her training days. Too deep, too consumed with whatever this was. The sirens should have gone off far sooner than this.

"Take me to Qurvo, leave that poor sap alone. Not my fault your boss can't satisfy my appetite. I'd like to tell him that to his face." She ground out to the man who addressed her, pasting a disinterested look on her face as they paused their struggled heft of her date.

"He's going to kill you, you know?"

"You'll be joining me once the enforcers catch you on the cams of the hotel. Leave him be and let's go." And without a backward glance spared toward Gunnar, she headed in the direction of Qurvo's headquarters. She didn't flinch as she heard a few more choice blows fall upon him, enough to set him down in case he had it in mind to pursue. At least he was alive, which was more than she might say for herself in a few hours time.

[Gunnar Dryden]

It was difficult to process the conversation Sybella had while struggling against the men threatening to pitch him over the side. His heart thudded in his ears as he put all of his strength and ferocity into fighting himself free, his body choosing fight in that moment of fight or flight. From his blindside he was struck violently, stars exploding across his vision and blackness creeping in from the edges. Again and he fell to the floor as they released him, the pavement he looked down on blurring until he went unconscious from another series of blows that he didn't even feel.


Inhale and exhale, the process went uninterupted as the rain continued to come down until the water level rose enough that he inhaled water, causing his lungs to force his mind awake suddenly and for him to sputter and cough in a desparate gasp for air. He turned over onto his back, blinking his eyes against the rain drops that fell on his face. He looked to the last place he remembered seeing Sybella. Gone. They had come for her, and it was all starting to come back to him.


Qurvo. He remember the name. Where they were based out of, and he also remembered being the one that might as well have set this up, though he hadn't expected it to come so soon. He rose to a stand and shed his torn jacket, loosening his tie and tossing it aside. Qurvo knew enough to get Sybella into trouble, but the job wasn't to get her killed, and even if it was he wouldn't have wanted that by now. He oriented himself to the nearest turbolift, then jogged off in that direction, perhaps too hastily and ill-prepared but knowing time was too much of the essence to make a stop back and procure some weapons.

[Sybella]

A completely unfeminine snarl tore from Sybella's lips as a fist collided full force with her abdomen, both winding her and causing the resounding displacement of the ribs when the blow impacted. Her eyes clenched shut but only for a few moments, reopening to focus with the promise of hellish retribution on none other than Qurvo, himself.

"Pretty bird, you disappoint when it comes to loyalty; but, you've held up well enough under pressure that I am willing to forgive and forget. All you have to do is say you belong to me, only me, and maybe we can get some bacta on that sweet face of yours before you scar." He drawled, picking the blood from beneath his finger nails with the knife he'd been tracing over her skin earlier. Considering her situation, it wasn't a bad deal. The assassin dangled from a crude chain and a pair of manacles clasped to its length, her arms stretched into a blindingly uncomfortable position over her head. Her dress was torn to rags, bruises and trails of blood marred her lavender skin. That, she could probably deal with. If Qurvo knew what she was actually on about with him, he'd already have done away with her. No, he had no idea. She could reset, act contrite until she was prepared to strike again. But, pride...

She wasn't ready to let that go yet.

"I wouldn't crawl back to you for all rainbow gems on Gallinore, Qurvo." She bit out with a saucy smile smeared with her own blood.

"You stupid b-"

"Boss!" The chamber door banged open, the metal echoing against the dripping duracrete walls of the basement room he held her in. An underling tripped inside with a com-link clutched in his hand. "Something going on topside. We've got men down on floors three and four." Qurvo let out a growl and reared away from the blow he'd been about to deliver.

"Watch her."

He snatched the com-link from the underling and waved his personal enforcers from the room, leaving just the messenger to watch her. Some of the tension fled from her arms then, causing a loud pop to emanate from the joints. She hissed and swiveled her stare toward the man. Promising... but she still didn't like her odds.

[Gunnar Dryden]

Thump

He let the body slide to the floor as slowly as he could manage the dead weight to mitigate the noise. His hands quickly snatched up the man’s blaster rifle, placing it aside in favor of a quick pat down. He stripped the man of a com-link and utility vest, which he searched to find a spare energy cell and vibroknife, and donned it overtop his button up. The body was quickly dragged off behind an empty rack and into some shadows before Gunnar snatched up the rifle.

He prowled the upper levels of the building, dispatching guards as quietly as he could as he went. His face, hands, and even garments were tinged with blood but with no clear indication who it belonged to. The com-link chatter intensified as guard check-ins were missed, until it became evident that a threat was present. With the guards now on alert, the element of surprise and close quarters combat was put on the back burner.

He shouldered his rifle and led every turned corner with it, popping around one and double tapping a guard. His partner turned and drew up but took two bolts to the chest. Gunnar redirected to the nearest turbolift and once called stepped in and hit the two floors above. He stepped out, pried the doors open, and used the internal service ladder to descend to the bottom floor.Once on the basement level, he pried the turbolift door open just enough to peek through the gap, before pulling it open further and rolling himself out onto the same floor he had identified Sybella was kept based on the comm chatter.

He paused outside the room she was kept in, waiting, listening. A shadow passed across the light emanating from the door, just one. No sounds of conversation, only nervous pacing. He surmised there was likely only one person within the room. He threw the door open quickly, procuring the knife from his vest and throwing it at the man. It impacted his shoulder, and Gunnar was quick on it’s heels. His hands went for control of the knife, which when he reached the recoiling man drove it in deeper and the man against the wall. He yanked the blade free in a hurry and cut across the man’s neck in a fluid motion that left him crumpling to the ground.

Breathing heavily, he moved towards the strewn up Sybella, lifting her chin and checking her for responsiveness. “You alright?” He questioned, giving her ample time to respond before he went and freed the chain suspending her from the wall. He kept tension on it to support her as he moved closer, reeling it in so her arms had the pressure taken off them, but she wouldn’t spill to the floor. When he was certain he could catch her, he relinquished the chain and scooped her lithe frame into his arms to give her time to stabilize. “Here I thought the night would end with me tying you up, not some other punks. You really know how to end a night with excitement, huh?”

[Sybella]

The events that unfolded not long after Qurvo left the room were not ones that she expected. At first, she thought it might have been her captor coming back to finish what he started. She was relieved and shocked to find Gunnar was the one who entered, a combat knife whistling through the air and impacting the shoulder of her guard with a satisfying crunch of flesh and bone. The man barely had time to breathe let alone absorb what just happened before he was on him again, sliding the weapon along the man's throat like slicing through a stick of butter. Sybella shuddered as blood gushed from the horrible wound and then the body of her only guard slid with thud to the floor.

Bleary eyes sought Gunnar's in the darkness, his rough hand grasping her face with the utmost gentleness. "I've... been better." She admitted softly, her face leaning into his touch before he removed it to address the chain suspending her. As she was given more slack, the sensation of pins and needles flooded down her arms only to be chased with fire as blood rushed back into her limbs. She hissed again, sagging unceremoniously into his arms as the last of the chains fell away. Her head rolled back against his shoulder and she grinned with a smear of blood on her lips. "Got to admit, I would have liked that better. What a lucky girl I am to have found myself a knight in shining armor."

She flinched as she flexed her fingers, burying them in his shirt. "I have a safe house. We have to get out of here.... he will probably be back soon."

[Gunnar Dryden]

Gunnar bent his knees, gently easing himself beneath her so she could settle into his arms. He held her until she could stabilize. “Here I thought you’d want to just kill them all right now.” And yet he knew she was probably in no state for it. He waited until her feet were solidly under her, then procured the weapons off the slain guard and wiped his blade across the man’s clothing before sheathing it. The second weapon was given to Sybella, and he led them out of the chamber. He kept always a few paces ahead of her, letting her watch his back but checking their corners and altogether taking the lead.

They managed to escape mostly quietly, and at that point Gunnar deferred to her with directions. She took the lead, moving them down the alleyways that would keep them off the main thoroughfare where Qurvo might have eyes and ears. He didn’t doubt at this point the man realized she was gone and was sparing no resources to track her down. Upon arrival, he let her unlock the door, then quickly stepped in before her. Routinely he moved through the apartment, checking for any places someone might be lingering, waiting for them. “Who knows about this place?” He asked, curious what chain to follow if someone showed up unceremoniously.

Confident the safe house truly was safe, for the moment, he set his rifle down beside the bed and returned to Sybella. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He took her hand, offering her stability as she moved towards the refresher.

[Sybella]

Escape went better than expected, she imagined Gunnar must have taken precautionary measures to assure as much. Infiltration of such a facility was well beyond the realm of a mere weapon merchant's expertise and she was sure to keep her eyes trained on him, when they weren't occupied with sweeps of the hallways behind them. Once outside and under significantly less duress, she double checked to make sure they wouldn't be followed before directing them to the safe house she had set up. Far from the hotel that served as her secondary base of operations, the ramshackle apartment building really was the polar opposite from what one might expect Sybella to pick. The locals liked her well enough and disliked Qurvo even more; both bonuses adding up to a more effective security system than mere cameras and locks. She had those too, though.

"No one."

Rather than coming in the front door of the building, she led him up the emergency ladder that ran along the face of it. Her arms and legs shook with the effort it had taken to climb by the time she reached the roof access. There, she punched in a 20-pin code and scanned her right eye before the advanced mechanism sprung to admit them. It was a short jaunt down the steps to the loft unit she occupied. The door opened, with additional security measures bypassed, and only once she crossed the threshold did she allow herself to sag against the wall. The gun he'd given her was dropped onto a entry hall table and she stumbled into the open floor plan of the apartment. Kitchen, living room, bedroom all shared the same vast space. A single refresher was the only room sectioned off, really. Technology was scattered across table surfaces, counter tops, and crates; all in some semblance of partial assembly.

She took his hand when it was offered, her gaze unwittingly conveying gratitude and something else...

"You.. are the best, you know? Can't say I've met many men who'd come rescuing someone like me from the jaws of death like that. Ever. Kind of suspicious..." She said but from her tone, he could gather she was joking.

[Gunnar Dryden]

Her smaller hand was enveloped in his large calloused grasp, but he bid her with a surprising gentleness towards the refresher. Once there, he sat her down and wet a cloth. “Someone like you, what’s that even mean?” He wasn’t really focused on her eyes, or her expression with that statement. Instead he was searching her face with his free hand angling her by her chin, where he would gently dab at bloodstained areas to check for still open wounds.

A prepared woman like her, he knew, was sure to have a med kit closeby. He retrieved it, putting the entirety of his focus into treating her and ensuring there was no lingering less seen injury. Her limbs were palpated to check for possibly fractures. “I really liked this dress.” It was unfortunate because in the state it was in, it wasn’t worth salvaging. Because of that, he didn’t concern himself overly much when he plucked his combat knife and easily tore through the rest of it to remove the rags that it was without forcing her to move unnecessarily.

Her felt at her ribs more gently, already seeing the formation of a darker area of skin that suggested bruising, then reached up to feel at her neck and spine. From the medkit he retrieved a couple bacta patches, applies them to her ribs, then a small tube of bacta. That he spread onto his thumb, then carefully applied over cuts and bruises. “You’ll be fine. Nothing a little rest won’t solve.” His eyes just barely cut upwards towards her, from where he focused on applying bacta. “Some date huh? You show all the guys such a good time?”

[Sybella]

"It means that my work usually only affords me the occasional one night stand. Not a daring rescue from one of the sector's most notorious crime lords." Sybella replied, her brow furrowed in such a way that expressed her confusion at having to explain. Still, the rest of her face remained lax as he swiped the wet cloth across it. She watched him depart from the refresher briefly to find the medkit she had stashed in the larger room beyond, contemplating just how bizarre his appearance tonight had been. No one had ever done something like that for her, not even another member or handler from her organization. If one died on a job then one was weak and would be replaced by someone stronger. She would live to fight another day, despite her near fatal mistake of letting him distract her.

I really liked this dress...

She looked down at the shreds that remained of it, sighing deeply. "A shame, really. I could have another commissioned... eventually." He used his knife to cut away the fabric still clinging to her battered form; eventually, leaving the half-Umbaran sitting there in her lacy undergarments which included a balconette bra and a matching bottom, silken garter belt, and shredded stockings that looked more like fishnets than what they had been before. She winced when his hands touched her ribs even though he was being the epitome of gentle. Bacta patches were applied and a salve in places where it was more suitable. Then, his eyes cut up toward her's and she met his gaze steadily. "No, Gunnar. I don't. Thank you for... helping me." She murmured, slowly cupping his jaw and leaning down to plant a feather-soft kiss upon his mouth. "Will you stay with me... for a while?"

[Gunnar Dryden]

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m more than your average one-night stand.” He added back with a touch of a smirk to her opening words, only to have himself silenced by a kiss far gentler than he would have imagined her capable of. “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you right now.” He assured her, coming to his knees just between hers. “Hey…” It broke his heart a bit to see her this way, not broken by anything Qurvo did, but broken by what he did. “…put that dour disposition again. You’re safe, and we can work on getting vengeance if it’s what you want.”

His torso bent forward, hands sliding beneath her stocking covered thighs. As he stood, he guided her legs to wrap at his waist before bringing them back down to support her weight when he stood up. He turned out of the refresher, carrying her to the bed. With a spin, he lowered them both atop it, but with her atop him. “Now, I think you were about to invite me up when we were interrupted. What say we pick up where we left off?”

A long evening, pleasant evening followed. He awoke first and started brewing a pot of caf. For the time being he let her rest, though was sure the aroma would rouse her before long. He moved towards the viewport, staring out over the city. It spoke of its own turmoil, but all was calm within her safe house. His eyes turned towards where Sybella rest, a momentary lapse furrowing his brow as he pondered what he was putting her through. He forced his resolve to steel and turned back towards the view, so as not to be caught in his brooding contemplation of their situation.

[Sybella]

After everything she had been through, she shouldn't have wanted to do anything more that evening. But, between the gentle coaxing of Gunnar's touch and the distraction from her own head space their ministrations afforded her, how could she resist? Again and again, until she was so exhausted that her mind willingly fell into the oblivion of sleep. She did not rouse again until the pungent aroma of caf teased her nose.

Blearily, her eyes opened and immediately found Gunnar's broad backside situated before the viewport. She slowly sat up while rubbing her face, soreness still tugging at her insides here and there. The white top sheet from her mattress tangled around her willowy form, which emerged into a stand. Her fingers loosely held the fabric to her frame as she stalked toward the percolating pot on the counter, groggily searching for her one of two mugs that she favored. It was dirty and she scowled, palming it into the sink with all the petulance of a cat. It clattered loudly and she reached for the other mug, finding it clean, and poured herself a generous cup with no room for cream.

"W...what time is it?"

[Gunnar Dryden]

His eyes turned back to follow her form the moment it was visible in it’s path to the kitchen, gaze lingering on the curves that were visible when the sheet pulled tight around her frame with every step. His form turned completely at the clatter overheard from the kitchen, though the source unknown. No heavy thud, so he was confident she hadn’t collapsed. “Everything alright in there?” His form turned enough to see her standing, grasping her mug with both hands. “Earlier than I expected you to be up, but later than you’re probably used to.” He answered, tugging the corner of his lips into a half smirk. He moved from the viewport towards her, tilting his head to the side. “You drinking my caf?” An arm swept her up around her frame, drawing her in close.

His grasp was loose around her frame, giving her all the freedom to move as she saw fit, while also keeping her barely sheltered form near to his. “I figure we can lay low here for a little bit. Just get the necessities. Of course, we’ll have to think of something to keep us entertained.” He stated the last with the most serious expression he could muster. “Once we feel the heat has subsided, we can dismantle those that are threatening you, then…figure it out from there. Whatcha think?”