Arranging Matches

[Raskor Shokus]

So far, being stationed on Jovan had been... interesting. Not bad, but certainly not a nude beach on Zeltros. The action was sporadic, but it was still there. The patrols at least were on the regular, and the life on the inside was certainly eclectic. A far cry from Levantine, that was for sure. Rather than being on a ship of nothing but Alliance personnel, Jovan hosted a wide sampling of the spectrum. From Alliance to Pride, to the various other governments and worlds represented by their chosen ambassadors.

Seemed to be no one from Carida, but in the grand scheme of things Carida was represented by the Empire. Sad, but true. At least for him it was.

Raskor Shokus wasn't on duty, and his current placement within the lovely Cizerack teahouse was by cosmic design, he deigned. He'd been eyeing the matron of the establishment for the last few weeks, though he was always discreet about it. A few side looks here and there, but mindful to remain focused on his drinks and whatever enticing bit of light nibbles were sent his way.

Bare chest half out of the water of one of the aromatic tubs, the rest of his very unclothed body was perfectly relaxed. He'd waved away a girl - a bare wisp of a thing - a short time earlier, and instead remained content with half-lidded eyes and a mostly empty flute of what had been a Caridan 75.

One of the tenders passed by, and Raskor flagged the boy with a raise of his almost-finished refreshment.

"Another of these I think, yes?"

[Joey Rabeak]

The Tea House. Since arriving at Jovan three days earlier, Joey had heard about it, but the rumors seemed too wild to be true. A sort of hedonistic playground of a spa, where you just paid the cover charge and then your food was comped, and you could drink whatever you liked; that couldn't be real, could it? On his first day off, he decided he needed to find out for himself.

Upon entry, things felt vaguely familiar to the ancient communal baths on Nehantish that he'd been to on special occasions. The sexes were divided to their own changing rooms, clothing and belongings stuffed into lockers, and a towel given for the remainder of his stay. Even if it was just to be a nice soak in actual water, he decided it was worth the admittedly steep door price, as one could only take so many sonic showers before you craved the real thing. Fluffy white towel wrapped low around his waist, so that his tail could hang out over the top, Joey stepped out of the changing room and into the 'tea house' beyond.

What had been only a mild tingle in his nostrils before suddenly flooded in full and clear, laden with aromas and a touch of spices which fired parts of his brain typically reserved for more private moments. Just out of the doorway, Joey froze in place, breathing in the intoxicating air while his pink eyes surveyed all which lay before him, and he realized it was nothing at all like the communal baths. Males and females alike - mostly Cizerack or human - lounged in pools and tubs, or took advantage of what appeared to be massage tables, their naked bodies glistened from the semi-oily water, while gorgeous Cizerack serving boys bore trays of food and drink. A quick glimpse revealed a couple or two getting frisky, and just from the scent in the air Joey could see why. He also knew he'd have to find himself a tub to slip down into quickly, lest his towel betray his feelings about such a sight.

Any tub, it didn't matter, Joey picked one at random and made a beeline to it. Towel left on a rack, he stepped down into the semi-murky water, pausing only a moment to stare at the strange leaves which floated upon the surface, before he sank down to a seat on one of the submerged benches. As the warm water penetrated his fur, he knew he'd made the right choice, and the brown-furred Nehantite let his toned arms stretch out along the rim of the tub as he closed his eyes smiled to best enjoy a fully contented sigh.

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Ah, e'chuta!"

Mags wrinkled her nose the moment she stepped through the changing room curtain to the main bathing pool. It wasn't the sights, it was the smell. Not something foul, but something that probably would have smelled fine if it wasn't intense. It reminded her of the ryll head shops of her youth, but this wasn't spice in the air. Although the effects...close enough.

A pair of heavy-petters splashed a bit of water from the pool over her bare feet, but Mags carried on. She wasn't here for the baths or the pretty boys. Well, the latter part depended on how pretty. Cizerack stances on casual bedfellows suited her just fine, especially if she didn't have to know their names or their stories, or have them hang around long enough to get awkward.

But no. That was not why she was here. Her aims were equally sensual, but doubly selfish. The masseuse at the Maillanaarro Tea House was purported to be familiar with Naktochi Lek, which was probably the best Twi'leki stress relief this side of legality.

She paused on her way to the massage parlors in the back, catching sight of a few recently-introduced familiar faces. The wide-eyed Nehantite Joey Rabeak was testing the waters - literally, while Raskor had seemed to settle in to his hedonism with more familiarity. Mags smirked, her right lekku rolling in a lazy arc of sardonic expression.

"Of course I would find you both 'ere. 'Ooever 'eard of such a zing as a celibate fighter pilot."

[Raskor Shokus]

"Ah, Mags."

Raskor grinned almost lecherously as the serving boy brought him another drink. The empty was given up, and the new was replaced in his waiting hand. Oh how he loved this teahouse. With the Madame and her luxurious curves, and the cluster of bodies surrounding him.

"You surprise me. In here? In such a den of evil galactic sin? I do hope that you're gruff exterior can withstand the niceties."

He licked his lips, letting his eyes flit to Titan Squadron's newest arrival, who coincidentally was the newest arrival to his tub. Raskor hadn't had much interactions with Nehantites, and only really was vaguely aware of Jovan's Chief Engineer. Not bad looking, though his baseline for whether a Nehantite was attractive or not was sorely lacking. Either way, he gave a fleeting wink to Joey before sneering back up to Mags.

He took a dainty sip of his refilled drink.

"Your standards might be lowering, yes?"

[Joey Rabeak]

If there was one thing Joey should have learned by now, was pay more attention to your surroundings when naked, and never close your eyes when naked in a strange place.

Mags's distinct accent broke his lidded reverie, causing his pink eyes to snap open. Relaxed muscles suddenly tensed when he glanced over to see another of his wingmates, Raskor, sitting only a few feet away. How could he have missed seeing him while getting in? And now one of the senior pilots was there, seeing him naked as well? Hell of a third day....

His surprise was quickly covered thanks to years of practice at hiding illicit activities from his parents of others, and he played it off as having been rudely awoken from what could have been the beginning of a wonderful nap. Bringing his arms in a bit, elbows resting on the rim of the tub, Joey didn't miss the once-over from Raskor, though the wink was unexpected, yet certainly not unwelcome. For a human, Raskor boasted a body Joey wouldn't mind getting closer to, and yet fear of messing with a wingmate forced him to keep his distance. Still, a smile played up his long muzzle, and the Nehantite leaned back to look up at the towel-clad Twi'lek, shrugging his fit shoulders. He couldn't do much more at the moment, as he didn't dare betray that the water seemed to be having a rather profound effect upon him, physically.

"Lowering? They must be hitting rock bottom if you're here to hang out with us," he chuckled to Mags.

[Mags Sondeeta]

Sondeeta wagged the tip of her left lekku a bit, a bit of unspoken sass as she placed a hand on her toweled-up hip.

"I do not zeenk so. From where I stand, I am ze oonly one 'oo ees not 'anging out."

Mags craned her neck, as if to get a better glimpse of the Caridan. A flippant shrug followed.

"And my standards zey are just fine. You 'ave nozzing I want. X-Wing pilots, zey are all ze same. Too fast, and a theen fuselage."

With that, the elder pilot turned to head for the massage room. She pulled her towel off, slinging it over her shoulder as she walked with a switch.

"And you all love yourselves."

[Raskor Shokus]

Undaunted, Raskor only made an unimpressed face as Mags hitched a hip in her 'retreat'. Not one to be undone by a bit of banter, he gave a shrug while turning to Rabeak.

"Do not be fooled by the lekku; the woman carries her brains in her ass." Another wink, as he settled a little bit more comfortable on the submerged bench. It was like heaven, in the tub; water warm, the aromatics heady and enticing. He sometimes wondered what he'd done with himself before discovering the Madame's tea shop. Or the Madame herself, for that matter. She had thus far been mostly inaccessible, but the time would come, he just knew it. In the meantime, there was always the chance to get to know the newest, fresh face that had come to Titan Squadron.

Raskor offered a wide smile as his eyes went to the Nehantite.

"First time in a Cizerack Tea House, then?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey's eyes followed that swaying blue backside for a few seconds before chuckling and returning his attention to Raskor.

"Yeah, what gave it away? It's... not quite what I'd expected, but I'm certainly not complaining," he grinned.

Once more his gaze was stolen away, this time at the sight of some big, muscular, and likely not-too-bright Cizerack male climbing out of a nearby pool, his body gleaming as the water ran off his skin. "Not complaining one bit."

[Raskor Shokus]

Following Joey's line of sight, his own smile melted into a sly grin. Watching a person's first time at the tea house was always enjoyable, and Raskor couldn't help but indulge in a bit of self-serving ribbing. He leaned ever so slightly closer, head inclined and voice lowering to a whisper.

"Makes the heart go pitter-pat, eh?"

The Caridan reclined back once more then, allowing Joey his personal space again. One arm went out to lay across the edge of the tub as his other hand lifted his drink to his lips.

"Ahh," nothing like a Caridan 75.

"Sooo." He held the word for a bit longer than normal. "I hear tell that you are um, straight from the Academy?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Indulging his shameless staring a moment longer, Joey allowed all manner of thoughts to run through his head, while his skin practically tingled with excitement. Or perhaps not practically, as there was clearly something in the water that was having an effect on him - an effect which made him glad that the water was murky indeed!

"Mmmf," he replied to Raskor's first comment without thinking about it, only to realize he'd just missed drink service and would have to wait for one of the servers to come around again.

Allowing his arms to slip down into the water, Joey slid down in his seat, up to his neck. "Yeah, basically. Went in for propulsion engineering, and transferred over to piloting when I realized I'd like to actually see some action instead of wearing a labcoat all day," he replied. "Four years there, four years at Dinesh University on Nehantish before that. I am soooo ready for life outside the classroom, let me tell you, dude. Seems I hit the jackpot with Titan Squadron, here. How long have you been with them?"

[Raskor Shokus]

Raskor couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips, enjoying the entirety of his current situation.

The Titans," he rumbled softly, rolling his shoulders.

"I would say, oh, I don't know. A... few years? First posting with them was on the Levantine. A nice ship, that. Well," eyebrows rose as his head angled to the side and his eyes seemed to half-roll.

"... before Ossus, at any rate."

Memories of that terrible battle were banished, and he turned back to Joey. He revealed another wide smile while in the same motion lifting his arm to flag down a server.

"I am... not exactly the oldest one left, no. But I am not the ummm... " his beckoning hand lowered, wrist propelling his hand in a rolling motion as if to conjure the words from below the tub's aromatic depths, "... freshest face, either."

It was a playful jab to the Nehantite, one that was punctuated by a good-natured elbow to the other man's shoulder.

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey chuckled at the elbow, then sat back up, arms pulled back up over the rim as the server drew near, careful not to entangle them with Raskor's own along the back of the bath. With his wet fur plastered down, a body that had only suggested musculature beneath his pelt was suddenly revealed as a real hardbody, and it wouldn't be amiss to think that Joey spent a fair bit of time in the gym to tone his physique.

Just as he didn't miss the elbow jab, Joey also didn't miss the implication that he was the new kid, and therefore had the most to prove. "We studied Ossus at the Academy. Brutal, just brutal," he said, shaking his head. "I hope we never have to see a battle like that again, but if we do you can count on me being at your side. Just because I'm green doesn't mean I'm a know-nothing."

Further comment was cut short as the server arrived, Joey taking a moment to ogle him before stating, "Glass of semillon, please. Chilled."

He turned back to Raskor without a second thought, flexing the muscles of his arms a bit to show off, as he was sure Raskor was looking. "So, what kind of hazing do you think I'll be in for?" Sometimes there was no substitute for being blunt.

[Raskor Shokus]

He blinked at that, letting his expression fall into a neutral tone as he took another sip of his drink.

"Well, ehhh... "

It was always a thing, the hazing. And while he'd never partaken in the act, he'd never really stopped his squad mates from having their fun, either. He gave a half-hearted shrug while looking away.

"The hazing, it depends on the man."

A knowing look to Joey.

"What the others might do, I cannot tell you. But, I can at least say to not show the weakness, yes? But, even then I am afraid that would do little to help. A pilot can sense things," his head tilted away at first, then rolled over to cast his eyes to the Nehantite; first to the arm that had been flexed, and then up to those pink eyes.

"... it is in the instincts, and not many can outrun the instincts."

[Joey Rabeak]

"Instincts got me through a heavy meteor shower in a broke-ass old Y-wing with barely any form of shield generator, no astromech and no stability control," Joey replied, a bit too cocksure based on that experience. "But as long as nobody messes with my fur, I can handle whatever the squadron throws at me."

Perfectly timed, his drink arrived and Joey reached up to take his glass of white wine from the server, swirling the bulbous glass's contents before taking a whiff with his big nose. "Mmm, not bad, they didn't even cut it with chardonay," he mused, then took an appreciative sip. "You know, I could really get to like this place. Good company, good atmosphere, good drinks, excellent eye candy, whatever the hell is in the water that's clearly having an effect on all of us,... all of it. Cheers."

Holding his glass by the stem, he offered it up for a toast.

[Raskor Shokus]

With an agreeable nod, Raskor lifted his own flute, gently tapping it to Joey's with a fragile sounding clink.

"To the talents, yes? May we always be flying with them."

He allowed a sip, feeling as the bubbly liquid ran over his tongue and down his throat. It was always a refreshing drink, made all the better that the Madame - in her infinite wisdom - stocked at least a few bottles of Ces Cresita, one of the more upscale champagnes from Carida. It was like a taste of home.

"Jovan is a good place," he hitched his head to the side, eliciting an audible crack from his neck.

"Certainly not the same as the moving decks underfoot, but I like it."

Hazel eyes went up to lazily cast a sweeping gaze to the bodies around him, lingering on one or two that took his fancy. A few pools over, a pair of Cizerack were engaging in the first stages of heavy petting. Of course, he'd been here enough to know that it wouldn't be long till they were on to the main course,taking advantage of the water and it's heady effects. A knowing smirk, and he turned back to Joey.

"At least we have food that is more than ration packs, yes?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey's wine was full and fruity, with hints of lavender and fig, and he relished his drink in small sips while taking in the scenery. All about were naked bodies, most all of them beautiful to look at, and looking for more than just eye candy. It was hardly the sort of place Joey had expected to find, and he might have delayed his first visit if he'd known, but to back out now would be cowardly - not to mention embarrassing were he to stand up, as the murky water was at least concealing his body's reaction to it all.

No, it was a new experience, like so many he'd not been blindsided by on Jovan, and he would take it in stride. After all, he was the new guy, it was prerequisite that he not know things, and be surprised by stuff, right?

So far Raskor had seemed like a good guy, but their only previous meeting had been mostly formal in getting introduced to the squadron. It was different to get to know a wingmate on a personal level, and to be blunt Joey had presumed such a meeting would occur with pants on, not sharing a tub while drinking wine and champagne. His dad was never going to believe this. Well, as if Joey would tell him, that is.

The topic of food came as a saving grace, and the Nehantite allowed it to distract himself from his body's tingling desires which were slowly increasing in intensity due to the jeeta in the water, and he took another sip of his wine before setting it carefully on the edge.

"Oh, Garfife, yes!" he agreed. "Man, at the Academy we should have access to real food, but they just wanted to serve us meal cubes, ration packs, or powders we'd have to rehydrate. After a while some of us figured out how to sneak out some nights and go get real food. And, ha, when I got here I went to that Bothan restaurant, have you ever been there? Well, they serve meat, real meat, grilled and everything, as much as you want. They bring it out on swords, can you believe that? One of the Cizerack officers took me there, and I ate way, way too much, but it was sooooo good! And then I made a mistake. I ordered a slice of chocolate cake for dessert, and I kid you not, it was this big." Joey held his paws apart indicating something approximately the size of a loaf of bread.

"It was huge, and rich, and so sweet, and I was already stuffed, but then she starts digging in, and I realize I'm in a race, so I have to start eating more, and faster. We eventually finished it, but I really wish I hadn't. If you remember me looking a bit sick on my first day, that'd be why."

[Raskor Shokus]

Mention of the Bothan steak house was enough to make his eyes close in remembrance of his own trip there. It had been glorious and divine, and he'd very nearly rolled his way out the door. He'd not been brave enough to try the deserts, so there was a decently hefty amount of silent respect sent Joey's way.

"Sacre," a rueful chuckle.

"That is a feat to be proud of. I have only looked at the desert menu, but the bravery, ah, it was not there."

Angling back to recline just a little bit more against the wall of the tub, he held his glass between two fingers, rocking it gently in a tight, slow, circular motion.

"I remember well your first day. You had a bit of the green on the tips of your furs. But worry not," beneath the water, his legs stretched out, ankles crossing over one another, "... we all were new once."

A sly look, then.

"But you are here now, yes? You have found the tea house, and you have the good idea of what happens here," a not-so-subtle nod to the Cizerack couple that were now in the full throes of pleasure.

"Tell me your flavors, Jofar Rabeak. You are not on duty, and the odds, they are good you will find them here."

[Joey Rabeak]

Beneath the water, Joey's tail swished, and he relished the sensation of his long tail fur flowing over and back each time he changed directions. Simply being immersed in water was no small pleasure to the Nehantite, having come from a desert kingdom before packing off to a world of sonic showers for years on end. Fingertips playing into the water, he nearly lost himself in his own distraction as he listened, regaining full concentration only as Raskor pointed out the pair shamelessly indulging each other.

His pink eyes remained on them, as it didn't feel like you were a voyeur if someone was getting it on out in the open, and he considered his wingmate's question while a portion of himself ached.

"Flavors?" he asked, blinking back to reality, and his ears cocked toward Raskor. The knowing smile on the human's face read like an open book, educating Joey fully on just what he had meant. Immediately those ears flushed pink as he blushed beneath his fur, the Nehantite glancing away to look around at any other couples before he dared reply. "I, um..."

The words were difficult, not because they were hard to pronounce, but because of the amount of weight they might bear on his future in the squadron. Would they think of him any differently? Would they accept him, or begin a long slide down the cold shoulder into the icebox of loneliness? Much like flying blind into a new sector, the only way to find out what lay in store for him was to simply punch it, and yet he still tempered his courage.

"I'm not sure that the flavor I prefer is allowed, here," he answered at last.

[Raskor Shokus]

It was telling, despite the soft explanation. And truth be told, it was enough of an admission to pique his interest. Nothing to act on, but a single eyebrow did go up. Raskor himself was an epicurean of sorts, and enjoyed everything life chose to place in front of him. He celebrated life as any full-blooded Caridan would. Perhaps more thoroughly than some, but he happily indulged in his desires. His chest rose as he pulled in a breath. His free hand pulled back to give a light stroke of his chin, fingers trailing down his neck to rest fingertips at his jugular notch.

"Well now."

Another lull, and he let his gaze shift to stare at an unseen spot above them.

"The flavors, they are broadened."

His voice seemed to take on a deeper tone, a slight rumble lacing each word as each word was spoken for Joey's benefit just as much as his own. Raskor was never one to rush into things, despite his own tastes, but he was not against testing the waters to a degree.

"I have never tested the theory here, personally. I do not think though, that the Cizerack, they are fond of such freedom of... expression."

There was a rueful smile then, as he lolled his head back to Joey. A smile that was very nearly scandalous met the Nehantite. Scandalous with a healthy amount of playful teasing.

"Jofar," he feigned chastisement, "... if it is Hutts that you wish for, I am afraid that none here have the desire to see such coupling."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Behind the two lounging pilots came the soft sound of padding bare feet against tile. It barely registered behind the boisterous sounds of talk and affection, but a voice soon followed to ensure it wasn't a mere chance passing.

"Sorrarr, mjy loveljiess. Arre we enjojyjing ourrsselvess?"

Madame Kalleeiha Maillanaarro clasped her hands together, just over her chest. A bright-colored sari draped her generous figure, complementing an array of glinting earrings to each side of her head. Those earrings clinked as the Madame's ears skewed in their array, betraying curiosity at a new face.

[Joey Rabeak]

It could never be said that Joey Rabeak was difficult to read, and as Raskor's words wandered here and there, Joey's facial expression changed with each new twist and turn. Ears up, down, sideways, eyebrows moving, every expression seemed amplified as if he was being viewed through a magnifying glass. Worry gripped his heart when Raskor doubted freedom ofexpression, though that worry turned to a sneer of rank disgust when the mental image of getting it on with a Hutt filled his fertile imagination.

"Oh, dude, that's just sick!" he recoiled, and his arm went with his expression, winding up to deliver a hearty splash of the jeeta water directly into his wingmate's face for such a foul joke, though the move was checked by the sound of approaching feet.

Arm easing back down to the rim, Joey tilted his head up and back over his shoulder to see a fat chick in a mumu.

Oh. Hell. No.

So incensed at his companion's implication, it took Joey a moment to infer from her words that this must be the proprietor, or at least a manager on duty. A smile returning to his muzzle, the Nehantite did his best to nod from his vantage point. "Yes, it's, uh, very... invigorating."

Inside he winced at the choice of word, though his body could not deny its accuracy.

[Raskor Shokus]

The voice that reached his ears was lyrical and wondrous. It cause an involuntary smile to spring forth once again, and Raskor let his eyes lead the motion of his head to lift up. To gaze at the vision of beauty that had seen fit to grace their presence. She was like a dream, and he'd stolen enough glimpses during the last few times he'd visited the tea house. The Madame, in all of her glory, was like an angel that was unattainable. He let his gaze settle on her.

"Ahhh," it was a word as much as an exhaled breath.

"Cherai, it is wondrous, as always."

His flute was lifted in a respectful salute to the woman who provided so much for the men and women of Jovan. His eyes never left hers.

"Your hospitality, it is as a Caridan trellis bloom; always wishing to share the immeasurable beauty and kindness held within, and scented with the most delicate of delights to tantalize the senses."

His wide smile fell to settle into an easy grin.

"My new comrade, he is almost just arrived to the station from the Academy, yes? Might I beg of you the celebratory drink for him?" A moment of thought as his eyes finally flitted down to look at the glass that Joey held before going back to the Madame.

"Something that is of your choice and sensibilities, perhaps?"

[Abarai Loki]

It was his second shift at the Teahouse. Eight hours, he reminded himself, with a bracing breath. The air was sweet and heavy with perfume. Eight hours: a trifle in the grand scheme of things, but, in the presence of the unclothed, eight hours was a lifetime. And not for the first time, Loki found himself wondering how it had come to be that he found himself there, of all places. It was a question best answered by the growl of an empty stomach, and, as such, it was equally a question best unanswered entirely. The night before, he enjoyed a supper of creamy nuna casserole and mushrooms. It had been so good he could still taste it. A week ago, he ate the last of his dehydrated rations.

It was also his third job in as many weeks. Stints as a janitor and a delivery boy had both resulted in varying degrees of disaster. Fortunately, for Loki, jobs on Jovan came as quickly as they went. If nothing else, the people of the station were receptive to the notion of cheap labour. His latest employer, Madame Maillanaarro, had been more particular in her demands than the others, and notably less conventional. The whole affair had been rather… invasive. And yet, as a new employee, he was well looked after – in more ways than one. He took a glance at the tall gilded mirror and failed to recognise the person staring back at him. Between steam drapes, he stood, glistening and smooth, in a groping shirt of sheer violet fabric, embroidered in elaborate gold, and with a pair of short gold shorts to match. He looked ridiculous, but he felt cleaner than he had been in months, years, maybe. And his new hair, short though it was, had been sculpted to perfection. A frown passed over his face like a storm cloud, but was quickly dispelled, for frowning was apparently not in keeping with the Madame’s unique vision.

It was a temporary solution. The last of his credits had been used to get him to Jovan Station, and as soon as his pockets had been fully replenished, he’d be on his way again. Where that would be, he had no idea, and the thought of that excited him. Perhaps he’d find himself camping on a forest moon, or moisture farming on a desert world, or serving drinks in the Outer Rim. The galaxy, as the saying goes, was his oyster. But that was life of ex-Jedi wanderer, Abarai Loki. Right now, he was Wexley Wallis, from Torque. And that was who he would continue to be until he was on the move again. Wexley Wallis, with his finely manicured hands, and an arsenal of scented oils at his disposal. If Taataani Meorrei could see him now…

Outside, there came the faint patter of bare feet, and a shadow passed over the thin veil hanging from the arched doorway. His pulse quickened. It was show time.

“Ja irra korra nai, friend. Please, enter.”

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Raskor Shokus had made a fairly large splash in Madame Maillanaarro's proverbial pond. The ever-perceptive tea house owner had immediately taken notice of the Caridan and his flowery peculiarities. Of course, there were many peculiar aliens here. Peculiar in appearance. Peculiar in language. Peculiar in custom. At first, Kalleeiha had been guarded with her interactions with such strangers, but she had quickly realized there was much more to be gained by embracing change. Raskor Shokus was the face of Jovan. Conservative matrons from the mother worlds could hiss and back-bite all they wanted, but on the frontier, the Madame might as well be the Cizeri ambassador to the masses.

Ah, but Raskor. Kalleeiha exchanged a sweet smile for the well-spent compliments. She suspected he wasn't being entirely polite in these repeated encounters. That was part of the thrill of the new. Men who flattered and made overtures instead of posturing to receive them. Even without being a tea shop Madame, Kalleeiha was no novice to the amorous arts. Many years ago, she'd once been the sort to behave in just such a way. The habit hadn't entirely worn off, either.

"Brrave jyoung Rrasskorr, sstandjing sso closse to jyourr handssome jyoung frrjiend..."

She glanced in Joey's direction. This wasn't her first moment to observe the Nehantite. This was her kingdom, and here she was omniscient. Big-eyed and provincial, but not a rube. He obviously thought of himself to keep his body hair well-managed - not like some ghastly Wookiee. And, oh yes, painfully overdue for some proper coital release. That part would take care of itself eventually, with luck. There was always a woman or two in the establishment who appreciated novelty.

"...unafrrajid that he'll be djimjinjisshed sstandjing sso closse to ssuch an equalljy brrjilljiant ssjight. Orr perrhapss therre jiss a rreasson he hassn't told me jyourr name afterr all."

She considered Raskor's request on it's face. On general principle, the Madame comped nothing, but she reserved the right to change course when it made good business sense. The Caridan was repeat business, and she knew he spent enough of his pilot's salary in her tea house to mark his time as a lifestyle choice rather than a passing fancy. Fleeting kindness was a powerful force multiplier, especially when it could be offered with a drink that was...cheap, but not cheap on it's face. Something effervescent, light (no sense in getting too tipsy too early) and befitting an occasion.

Ah, but she was getting ahead of herself. Kalleeiha extended an upturned hand to Joey, with the expectation that he'd do her the honor in offering her his own, along with his introduction.

[Mags Sondeeta]

“Ja irra korra nai, friend. Please, enter.”

"Oh."

Mags paused the moment she passed the threshold into the massage parlor, her lekku curling in a guarded posture. She'd gone as far as to nearly draw her towel back over the front of her to cover herself in the midst of an unexpected human, a reflex she relaxed on a moment later when considering how foolish such a double standard might be.

"You are ze masseuse."

Mags blinked, her lekku once again relaxing.

"I was expecteeng ze masseuse, 'e oould be a Ceezerack, 'e ta?."

A little sunlight shone on the Twi'lek's normally moody face and she almost smiled.

"Zees assumption eet ees foolish. You 'ave two 'ands, I am sure zey are capable. Please to proceed."

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey say back against his wall of the tub whilst Raskor and the Madame engaged in their verbose pleasantries. A tinge of pink flushed Joey's ears when he was called handsome, though it was quick to pale once a hand was offered for him to take. To do so would mean standing up, and standing up would mean that his arousal would be revealed for all to see. Not that it seemed to matter to some, what with the Cizerack pair two tubs over rocking each other's world in full view of any who simply looked their way.

Deep breath, Joey, deep breath and you can do this. It's not like your parents just walked in on you having sex. Again. The little voice of reason hushed his fears.

One second passed, one and a half, and any further delay would be regarded as disrespect. There was nothing else for it but to stand, and so he bucked up whatever confidence could be scraped from the corners of his mind and stood, extending his paw go take the Madame's hand in it, while something else extended fully from his nether regions now above the waterline. Distraction and charm came in one motion as he leaned in to kiss the back of the Madam's hand graciously, then smiled up at her. Soaked, the full extent of his musculature could be seen beneath his plastered fur, and it was the body of a young male who perhaps spent a bit too much time in the gym, not an ounce of fat on him, except for maybe a little bit in his hindquarters.

"Lieutenant Joey Rabeak," he introduced himself. "New to Titan Squadron, arrived a few days ago."

Garfife, he wanted to sit down. Not that he was ashamed at the size of his malehood - as it was certainly of ample proportion - but ashamed that it was so brazenly displayed in front of a wingmate and the teahouse's proprietor. Yet he had to remain standing, for the sake of etiquette, until introductions were completed and it was proper to resume his previous position.

[Raskor Shokus]

A front row seat, was what it was often called. And Raskor Shokus was never one to shy away from such fortuitous seating arrangements. He also couldn't help the conspiratorial grin that crept along his lips to travel up for a chance to glint in his eyes. Eyes that went from the Madame, to Joey's elegant acceptance of her outstretched hand, to his... other elegance. Of course he maintained a professional air, allowing himself only a sideways glance. He wasn't entirely so cruel to make the effort so brazenly obvious.

But, there was still a measure of pity for Joey and the bit of uncomfortable waves that he could sense. Perhaps it was the gift of a Caridan? Perhaps.

With no shame, Raskor slowly allowed himself to stand as well.

He eased upwards, clearing the waterline slowly to reveal a very nearly hairless body that held lean mass. Wiry almost, but slender and fit. He was not gifted with a large amount of muscle, but he had always made sure that what he had was well cared for. Which, as all things, bestowed upon him a sleek form; smooth yet contoured. His strength was hidden, and many times over he had gotten the upper hand on those who'd thought him weak.

And while he was not so... affected by their surroundings as his comrade, there was still a healthy eagerness that had its' own effect on him. He was Caridan, after all. The joys of life were in the experience of everything offered, and The Grand Admiral beginning to show interest in coming to parade level was testament to that.

[Abarai Loki]

"Zees assumption eet ees foolish. You 'ave two 'ands, I am sure zey are capable. Please to proceed."

Loki remained silent for the duration of the Twi’lek’s monologue, and once she’d talked herself in a full circle, he simply smiled and gestured to the table. It was not in his nature to be so demure, but it was expected of him. And in that polite silence, he took refuge, for fear of betraying the same degree of surprise as his new client. Nudity was something he suspected a person could become numb to with time, and the tedium of work, with one exception: the sight of a naked Twi’lek surely never lost its charm. In his mind, a chorus of catcalls threatened to drown out the pleading voice of reason. But, by the time she was done waffling, his wits were gathered.

“Make yourself comfortable, friend,” he said, bristling inwardly at the forced familiarity, “Tell me how I may be of service to you.”

[Mags Sondeeta]

Something in the repeated use of friend raised Mags hackles. She understood the pandering nature of customer service, and maybe it could never be divorced from the act of a massage at all. If he was to knead her into a state of relaxation with his hands, then it stood to reason in some perverse way that she'd get the verbal treatment as well.

"I am 'ere for ze body treatment, and for Natkochi Lek."

The Twi'lek traced one of the head-tails draped over her shoulders with calloused fingertips, if the human needed reminding of what the term implied. Of course, if he did, then this was all going to be a frustrating waste of time.

"I am understandeeng zat ze Madame's service offers zees, and zat I am 'opefully not your first Twi'lek to ask."

[Abarai Loki]

Natkochi Lek. Loki’s heart sank, and fell through his stomach into his guts.

“My apologies. While I am aware of Natkochi Lek, I have not yet been trained in the art of lekku massage. You are indeed my first Twi’leki client.” Sensing the first flicker of disappointment, Loki promptly sought to provide some reassurance, “But I would be… happy to follow your instruction. You will find me a quick study, I am sure.”

There was a slight taste of desperation to his words that sickened him, but unemployment was just one poor customer experience away. So, he would pander, and grovel, and smile. Stars above, her breasts were excellent.

[Mags Sondeeta]

Typical.

"De's au," she muttered, turning her eyes low as her lekku flicked in a rude timbre. As much as she'd wanted to be placed in experienced hands, the odds weren't in her favor outside of Ryloth or a major planetary population center. It wasn't as if she were some delicate flower.

"Eet ees fine." she monotoned with restrained irritation. "You will know eef you do eet wrongly, as I will slap you on ze 'ead."

The Twi'lek stepped closer to her masseuse, who had to be half her age. She glanced down to the hands at his sides, pointing at one before upturning her own hand.

"Let me see your 'and."

[Abarai Loki]

At the threat of violent rebuke, Loki’s jaw tensed enough to bite down on a scathing riposte that was just aching to be free. Instead, it mutated into a tight smile, followed by a laboured bow.

“I will do my utmost to ensure your satisfaction.”

Admittedly, it was not the best word to use given the circumstances, for it sent his mind dashing for all kinds of lewd resorts. His ignited imagination was quenched, however, when his client made a rather peculiar demand of him. A flicker of confusion rose to the surface of his façade before he found it in him to comply. His hand was presented alongside her own, which was so monstrously large for a woman her size that he wondered if he was in the presence of some sort of… transient.

When she took his hand in hers, he stiffened, “What are you doing?”

[Mags Sondeeta]

"I am obviously going to show you 'ow to do eet." Mags replied with a testy tone. "Do I 'ave to tell ze masseuse 'ow to relax?"

She brusquely positioned Loki's hand with her own as a guide underneath, pausing only as she noticed the state of the masseuse's hands for the first time. A small look of surprise lighted the Twi'lek's features as she hooked her thumb atop Loki's own work-calloused hand.

"You 'ave ze 'ands of a worker." she commented unguardedly, her thumb drifting along one of Loki's fingers with an abrasive feel. "I take it zat ze life of a masseuse ees not your first calling."

[Abarai Loki]

It was the interview with the Madame all over again. As much as he wanted to keep eating with some degree of regularity, Loki wasn’t sure how much more prodding and probing he could take. He was there to give massages, not to be sized up like some sort of bantha calf. In the spirit of professionalism, his resistance waned, and he did his best to relax. Yet, with that, came its own share of problems. At such proximity to his client, in all her naked blue-skinned glory, he felt the knots in his stomach turn to butterflies. When she brushed a finger against his, he felt it all over.

“I repaired droids before I came here,” he said, distracted. It was only a half-lie. “Astromechs. Protocol droids. Load-lifters…”

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Zat ees an honest trade." Mags approved with the flick of a lekku tip. "Droids zey either break or zey do not. Zere ees nozzing een 'alf measure, nozzing to bend or to pretend. 'Ere."

Squeezing Loki's hand in guidance, Mags placed the flat of his palm against the broad contours of her upper tchun, allowing him to get a tactile sense of the job at hand. She continued to rest her hand over his.

"Ze tissue eet ees deep 'ere. You can squeeze to a point. Make a 'C' weeth your 'and. Feel?"

[Abarai Loki]

“I can feel it.”

His fingers coiled gently around the thick stem and squeezed. There was little give in the skin here, it was firm, like a ripened meiloorun. From his limited knowledge of Twi’lek physiology, he knew he was touching somewhere near the brain. Down the length of it, she guided his hand, sandwiched between the smooth snaking skin and the intimate heat from her palm. His heart was racing.

“And what about down here?” he said, teasing the narrowing tchun with his fingertips, “Gentle?”

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Yes. Down ze lekku, you must practice more care, down to ze teep, where ze nerves, zey are mm."

Mags halted in her explanation, sighing as her stance instantly slackened.

"Zat ees most good. I zink I must sit down. When eet's good, ze wave, eet can go down all ze way to ze knees."

[Abarai Loki]

When the Twi’lek sighed, and went weak at his touch, Loki’s eyes lit up like Life Day trees. An irrepressible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he basked in his moment of victory like the great conquerors of old. He continued to stroke, oh-so-gently, so slowly, for a moment longer, feeding vicariously from his client’s wave of euphoria. Prickly? Yes. Demanding? Absolutely. Violent? Quite possibly. Despite all this, Loki had made it his personal mission to make this woman produce that kind of sound all day long. She will feel the Force, he thought, and hated himself for it.

“By all means, take a seat on the bed. The table. And we shall begin in earnest.”

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

It always amused the Madame the way the turn of initiative seemed to run counter with aliens. She'd initially moved to draw Joey's hand to her lips, but on the slightest resistance from the Nehantite, she relented. He obviously fancied taking the salutation for himself. She was a host, so being gracious meant knowing when to defer.


"How charrmjing." Kalleeiha beamed, her earrings tinkling with a quiver of ears. "Eassjiljy the mosst handssome Nehantjite jI have everr sseen, Ljieutenant. Don't be sshjy, jI'm ssurre jyou'll make plentjy of frrjiendss todajy."


Naturally, she'd taken advantage of the sight of her two guests rising from the pool in more ways than one. Of course, when you ran a tea house, such a sight was as common as water - though not to say that the quality was common.

"Rrasskorr, jI thjink jyou'rre rrjight. Ssomethjing celebrratorrjy forr the ljieutenant'ss sspecjial occassjion jiss jin orrder. jI'll have one of mjy bojyss brrjing overr a pajirr of Tanaab fljipss."

[Raskor Shokus]

Rolling his shouldrs, Raskor gave a salute to the Madame, eyes sparkling as much as the liquid in his glass.

"The Madame, she knows best."

A slight motion, and he gave a gentle elbow to Joey's ribs while slightly leaning in the Nehantite's direction.

"If you come here often enough, you will find that the most gracious Madame Maillanaarro is masterful at knowing what her guests desire."

[Joey Rabeak]

The rate at which Joey's ears flushed and paled might as well have been a light show. Being told he was not only handsome, but the most handsome Nehantite encouraged the pink's return, and he smiled as he let the Madame's hand slip from his own. It vanished again at Raskor's comment about desires, as he still hadn't seen one male playing with another here, yet. Inwardly, Joey at least managed to be proud of the control over the rest of his face at that moment as he remained smiling politely.

"Thank you, Madame, that sounds lovely," he replied. For as long as he was engaged in conversation with the Madame, he would remain standing. Anyone who looked over could simply see his arousal at this point, and... wait, Raskor's too? Pink eyes glanced down at it before he could catch himself, playing it off as looking at the spot where he'd been elbowed.

"I'm, um, sure she is," he chuckled. "After all, a place as lovely as this could not have survived if its proprietor was not appreciative of her guests' needs."

There came a pause, and behind him the water burbled and splashed slightly with the sway of his nervous tail as he fought over his next question until at last it came out. "If it should come to pass that one guest prefers his own gender, would that male still be welcome in such a place as this? Forgive my ignorance, please, I am just now starting to learn Cizerack culture, and I would prefer not to offend whenever possible."

It was the most sugar-coated outing of himself he had ever done, but it wasn't like the rest of his squadron wouldn't know soon enough, so it was a risk worth taking. Calculation in everything.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Joey's question surprised the Madame momentarily, but she quickly smoothed over her widened eyes with a smile.

"Well, Ljieutenant..." she began, preparing to mentally tip-toe the issue, "...jI ssupporrt jyourr ljife chojicess and hope jyou'rre able to networrk herre to fjind a sspecjial ssomeone, wjithjin rreasson."

She placed a hand on the Nehantite's sopping shoulder.

"Thjiss jiss a Cizeri bussjinesss, wjith Cizeri valuess. jI would assk that jyou rrefrrajin frrom actjing on thosse urrgess herre. Not everrjyone'ss mjind jiss asss open asss ourrss."

[Joey Rabeak]

"I respect your lifestyle, but I won't have it in my house." Joey's mother's words came back to him in that instant, and he could feel his ears droop with defeat.

In all fairness, it was about the answer he had expected, and he maintained a brave face as he smiled and nodded. "I understand," he replied, then his ears perked up once more in curiosity. "Though, for clarification, do you mean simply no engagement in... fully physical activities, or are things such as touching, and kissing, frowned upon for males like me?"

There was a spark of hope in his eyes, yet it was guarded as too often it had been snuffed out on the past. "Providing such a male was discrete, naturally," he tacked on.

[Raskor Shokus]

"Ah," his voice seemed to rumble from his chest more than anything, "... the hope of youth; a beautiful thing, yes?"

But the question that Joey had posed in the wake of the Madame's denial was a fair one, and the pilot turned his eyes to her. A prodding look glinting across the short distance between them. His grin turned into a thin, cunning line that ticked upward at one edge.

"Still, a good question, that," he finished with a rueful murmur.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

The Madame's ears lowered a measure, and she took on a sympathetic expression.

"jI'm ssorrrjy, mjy dearr. jIt'ss forr decorrum. Though jI don't thjink therre'ss anjy harrm jin cassual companjy between men, but pleasse keep anjy ssuch amorrouss purrssujitss to a prrjivate matterr."

[Joey Rabeak]

The silent nodding of Joey's head was enough to express his feelings. Lips pursed and ears down, he knew he was defeated, though he tried to smile politely as he sighed.

"I understand," he replied. As much as he thought it unfair, or bigoted, Joey understood cultural norms were valuable to keep, lest the culture itself be lost. He was not so important as to think he deserved special treatment, and if there were rules he would comply with them for the sake of all. "Thanks for letting me know. It would not have been my intention to cause a disturbance caused by my own ignorance. And it's a pleasure meeting you."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"Ljikewjisse, mjy dearr." Kalleeiha replied, withdrawing her hand from the Nehantite to brush the residual water on the side of her sari.

"jI'll tend to jyourr drrjinkss mjysself." she smiled sweetly, considering how best to entertain a suddenly outed fey in her midst without causing a ruckus.

"jIn the meantjime, we offerr morre herre than ssjimpljy a venue to rreleasse jyourr passsjionss."

She gestured to the curtained alcoves beyond the fragrant pools.

"Feel frree to make full usse of ourr ssaunass and ourr masseusse asss well."

[Joey Rabeak]

Be it thanks to good manners driven into him by his parents, or some strange comedy sparked by the sheer awkwardness of the situation, Joey felt the corners of his mouth turning up in a light smile before he chuckled. "I'll have to do that once I'm more... presentable," he replied, sparing a quick eyes-only glance down at his lower body before his ears flushed pink again.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy my stay, regardless," he concluded. "Thank you, again."

There wasn't much more to be said, so once Kalleeiha had turned to head off, Joey quickly sank back down to his seat in the pool where he could at least hide his arousal. That was it, now the squadron would now he was gay. Not that he had ever truly tried to hide it, as it was on his permanent record on Nehantish, and the Alliance had a fairly lax view of it, but even still he had hoped to become known for his abilities as a pilot, and his sensibility and loyalty as a friend, before their judgment might be colored simply by his sexuality.

Glancing over to Raskor, he couldn't help but spare a glance at his full-masted flag before forcing attention to the pilot's face. "Sooooo, yeah, that just happened..."

[Raskor Shokus]

"Bah," he grunted away Joey's last words, as well as the Madame's answer while slipping back into the water.

"Listen not to her words, delightful little minx that she may be," letting both arms hitch up, Raskor once more was lounging in comfort. With a single finger, he gave a tap to one of Joey's knuckles.

"Not all here are of such limited views, Jofar."

The light tap ended with a playful flick before his hand withdrew, palm casually going to his chin in an assisted neck-crack. His tongue ran between his lower teeth and lip as he felt that glorious crack of relief.

"It is a wonderful thing to experience all that life offers to us, yes? I do believe that it would be of the greatest of sins to not partake."

[Joey Rabeak]

A rampaging torrent of hormones coursed through Joey's veins at that tap, and the words that went along with it. Propriety, desire, worry and lust each competed for the forefront of his thoughts, and in their violent entanglement the Nehantite bit his lower lip. Was Raskor hitting on him? Like, for real? Or was Joey imagining something that wasn't there because he wanted it?

The tumult of next moves caused him a moment's hesitation, paralyzed by the sheer number of actions he could take. Would it be wrong to sleep with a fellow pilot? Was Raskor simply being friendly, or was he randy? Did he desire a relationship, perhaps, or maybe he just wanted a taste of Joey's more exotic species? Whatever the reason, time was rapidly running out to make a move without it being awkward.

Arms slipping beneath the murky water, Joey let one paw slide over Raskor's bare thigh, squeezing it gently, and left it there as he blushed. "It's, um, been a while since I've partaken," he admitted with a quiet, bashful smile.

[Raskor Shokus]

Ah, but there was that so wondrous first moment, beneath the water and hidden by a constantly moving tumult of bubbles. It was a moment that made him grin, lolling his head to the side and staring at Joey with a level gaze. The Caridan maintained a measured reaction outwardly, though for the Nehantite he allowed a bare, cheeky grin.

"Jofar," he rumbled quietly, "... so bold."

His grin turned into a cheshire smile, and his own free hand moved below the water to rest upon Joey's, even as he brought his glass up to finish the dregs of his own drink.

"I think that such initiative is... it is enjoyable."

[Joey Rabeak]

So much could have gone wrong in that moment. He could have misread the signals, he could have been rebuffed for doing precisely what he was just told not to do in the tea house, he could have reached too far and put his paw on something else instead, or he could have been socked in the jaw for his audacity with a senior wingmate.

But none of those things happened, and instead Joey found his paw held from above, leading the Nehantite to massage the smooth skin beneath his pawpads. If the Madame were to return, surely he'd be in trouble, yet he could not smell her perfume on the breeze, so he dared to continue.

"I've learned there isn't much to be gained by holding back," he replied with a chuckle. "I'd, um..." the words tripped on his tongue as self-doubt and worry crowded for space in every fiber of his being. "I'd be willing to show even more initiative back at my place, after this." With that, his paw moved to grasp the object of his desire, at least briefly before the soft tinkle of earrings and the floral scent of expensive perfume forced him to retreat, lest they both get in trouble.

[Raskor Shokus]

His eyes lit up at the contact, sudden and only partially expected as it was. Joey was certainly eager, and it showed in his body language; well, the body language displayed beneath the water. For his part, Raskor maintained a cool exterior, his shoulders relaxing as his head tilted back, eyes slowly closing as a sigh trickled out from between barely opened lips. Yes, this day was glorious in so many ways.

"Ah, Jofar," the rueful half-laugh that followed was spoken with a tone of patient excitement. There was still so much to do before the chrono struck the witching hour, though when it did...

"We have so much to do before then," as that telltale delicate jingle of the Madame's earings reached his ears, the Caridan opened one eye, tracking his temporary monocular gaze to Joey in a knowing look.

"It will be that much more sweet an experience, I promise."

And in reassurance, he mouthed one last word.

Patience.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Kalleeiha returned as if the recent revelation hadn't occurred at all. She carried the drinks tray before her with perfect ease, undaunted by handling a task normally suited for her pool boys.

"Herre we arre, a loveljy pajirr of Tanaab fljipss to celebrrate Jovan'ss fjinesst pjilotss."

Had she missed something? There was something a bit familiar in the way her to guests' postures presented themselves. No matter, it likely could be chalked up to the effects of the jeeta.

"Can jI offerr jyou beautjiess anjythjing furrtherr?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Patience. It was a word Joey wasn't terribly good with, and his species' natural inclination to pursue whatever piqued their interest certainly wasn't helping - especially when paired with the wholly aphrodisiac nature of jeeta attacking his system. Still, he managed to show restraint, even going so far as to appear casual when the Madame arrived with their drinks. His white wine finished, the Nehantite set his empty glass aside before standing to accept both new drinks so that Ms. Maillanaarro wouldn't have to bend over so far.

"Thank you very much, Madame," he said with a smile. Passing Raskor his drink, the pair clinked glasses in a toast before Joey blushed, looking back to their host.

"Well, there is one thing..." he managed before the ability to not look flustered beyond belief took over. No dignity left to be preserved, he continued, "I'm considering a massage, but I'd prefer not to go in there at... full mast, as it were. Is there anything here that can, ahem, help a male take things down a notch, as it were?"

[Raskor Shokus]

He'd accepted the drink and the salute with a sombre nod, affixing his own measure of seriousness to their shared experience thus far. Raskor was not long for the serious aspect of things however, as he reclined a bit, taking a sip while angling his head up and ticked to the side to afford himself a lovely view of the Madame and her ample form. It was nothing so untoward as to have a peek up her sari, but rather his eyes raked over the shape of her body on their way to her face. He did have some bit of gentlemanly respect, at least.

"Ah, yes. Dearest Water Lilly, your help in such dire matters," he stole another sip from his drink, savoring the flavor, "... it would be so very appreciated, seh?"

Partially teasing, partially serious, Raskor grinned like the loth cat that had eaten the kallo walloo.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"jYou mean bessjidess a naturral rreleasse?"

The Madame queried with a hand cocked on her hip and ears askew. It wasn't exactly a question she fielded often. Considering that she'd denied the fey the most direct solution at hand, she considered the alternatives.

"Hmm, jyou could alwajyss make usse of the lavatorrjy jif none of the apprroprrjiate companjy arre entjicjing."

It seemed a sensible enough option. While he could certainly handle his own release in the pool, that sort of solo frivolity was generally frowned upon. This wasn't some barbarian orgy after all, there were rules.

"jI admjit, jit'ss ssomethjing jI majy need to conssjiderr jin the futurre. Forrda tend to have thejirr own peculjiarrjitjiess."

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey needed to stop asking questions. That was the biggest lesson he had learned so far in coming to the tea house, as each question only led to further and further embarrassment.

"I think I'll just... leave things be," he replied with a smile. Taking a sip of his drink, he sank back into the water once more. "After all, what I woulfd find to be the appropriate company isn't considered appropriate, here, and I wouldn't want to offend. Heh, I suppose the masseuse will simply have to deal with things as they are."

Another sip, and his smile remained. "But, thank you for the drink, and for your hospitality. This really is quite the establishment, and I can see why the others raved about it as they do."

[Raskor Shokus]

His features screwed up into an unreadable mask, though he knew the fine line they were walking here, in the tea house. For the time being, it would be best to enjoy the services offered, and then find release away from the narrow-minded and disapproving eyes. It would be much sweeter that way, he knew from experience.

But, he was not one to let the Madame simply float off without a parting word. And while he certainly disagreed with her whole notion of what was decent and what was not, she still held allure.

He lifted his glass up in a salute.

"Salu, Madame. Your presence, it is never short of miraculous."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

If words could nourish, Raskor's would be positively fattening. Kalleeiha's ears raised with her smile as she took in her valued customer's affection.

"A sshame jI'm a prrofesssjional, jyoung Rrasskorr. Otherwjisse jI mjight take jyourr flatterrjy perrssonalljy."

She glanced back to Joey, who at the very least seemed to be coping with reality.

"Don't hessjitate to let me know how jI can jimprrove jyourr sstajy."

With that, the Madame moved onward. The needs of the tea house never ended.

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Stop, stop."

Mags was doing her best to maintain on the tsunami of tactile ecstasy she was experiencing, but it was happening so quickly. Sensations of hot and cold ran down from her head to her feet, which curled and released with every small movement of the masseuse's deceptively-skilled fingers. But before the therapist could withdraw his touch from her completely, the Twi'lek quickly raised a hand to seize his arm at the wrist, maintaining that electric contact.

"Wait."

She rolled her shoulders along the massage table, shimmying as she arched her neck. A faint glisten of sweat had appeared along her nude form, casting a shine along her lean figure accented by crude tattoos and the occasional scar. She cracked an eye open.

"Zees, eet ees your first time really? I must 'ave not 'ad Natkochi Lek een so long. I feel like I weigh less zan a feather."

With effort, the pilot willed her loose and lethargic muscles into action and she slowly sat up, reluctantly relinquishing her hold on Loki's wrist.

"Do you 'ave water? I am thirsty."

[Abarai Loki]

It was the best moment of his life.

In the privacy of the massage parlour, something magical had taken place. A beautiful naked Twi'lek had entrusted him - him - with the handling and stimulation of some of the most sensitive and intimate parts of her body. And, in his hands, this strong, scarred, sculpted vision of perfection had turned to putty. Putty in his hands. There was a bond between them now, he was sure of it, forged in the moment when skin met skin, in a furnace of gasps, shudders, and moans. They had shared something special - it was theirs - and he would never forget it.

"Water?" It came out like a squeak. He cleared his throat and repeated, deeply, "Water? Yes. Just a moment, ma'am."

With great effort, he peeled his gaze away from her glistening body and retreated across the room. In transit, he was reminded of how restrictive his shorts were, and knew it wouldn't be long before he'd have to indulge in his own private massage session. There, he would swim deep in thoughts of... of... whatever her name was. The sexy moany scary blue woman.

While he bathed in the light of his achievement, Loki put his godlike hands to more paltry tasks. There was a jug of water, sat upon a bed of ice; it was upended into two deep cups. Clients were also treated to an assortment of figs, nuts, berries, and grapes, so when he returned to the recovering Twi'lek, he brought with him a bowl of treats, too.

"If you feel light-headed, you may need to eat," he said, with an irrepressible smile, "It is recommended after a massage treatment."

[Mags Sondeeta]

Mags propped on an elbow, reclining as she was first offered her requested water. She touched the rim of the glass to her lips, taking a few bird-like sips before setting the glass aside in favor for an offered fig. Her lekku draped low, warm to the touch and engorged from the loving treatment.

"I wonder eef ze droids zat you repaired in ze past were similarly affected."

Mags dispatched her fig in a single silken bite, setting aside the stem on the saucer that held her glass. She craned her neck, running her free hand down the length of tchun, to where it tapered over her breast, finding her pert nipple before falling back to her side again.

"I 'aven't felt like zis since I last left Ryloth."

She reached for her glass again, reflecting on something unsaid before taking another drink.

"A long time ago."

[Abarai Loki]

Affected! She said she was affected! Aaaa.

While Loki's insides performed somersaults, he played it cool, and managed a casual lean against the massage table. "Well, I'm glad I could treat you to a little slice of ho-."

His elbow slipped, scattering nuts and berries, and, by the time he righted himself, the floor was covered in them. The half-emptied bowl of snacks was left on the table while he busied himself with the mess.

"Apologies, ma'am," he uttered, in his man voice. And, while he was hunkered low, assembling a small pile of nuts, he attempted to pick up where he left off, "So... do you miss it? Ryloth."

[Mags Sondeeta]

A sudden bout of buffoonery struck the masseuse, and Mags did little to help or interfere. He'd asked her a question, one that she wasn't sure how to answer, or even if she was willing.

"I am old enough to miss eet, yet too young to remember all I've lost. Ze loss zat I know, eet pushes me away for fear of what I might discover."

She frowned at the small measure of herself she'd poured out for essentially a stranger.

"Zat makes me at best no different from many 'oo 'ave suffered beneath ze Empire."

Even you, no doubt. The thought went unsaid. Someone so young, barely a man, with worker's hands in such a seedy place? Even this simple masseuse likely had his share of hardship. And he had the good sense to swallow it up and put on whatever face he needed in order to survive.

[Abarai Loki]

"Indeed."

Loki paused, hovering over his collection of spilled snacks. Something the woman said rang true, as clear as any bell. And yet, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was like she had spoken in a language he'd forgotten how to speak. He turned to regard her once more. To this exquisite glistening beauty, there were depths that almost no light could reach. Her point was conceded with a shrug.

"Suffering is a currency that leaves no-one the richer."

While he could not outright condemn the Empire, given his current position, he would be damned if he was going to pretend he liked it. The impression he got from the dismissive way she waved off her tale was that his client did not wish to dwell on old wounds, so he returned to his work. In his hands, he swept up the spillage and promptly disposed of it. He then took a swig of water and washed the residual oil from his hands in a basin.

"Where did you go?"

[Mags Sondeeta]

" 'ere. Zere."

Mags responded in a noncommittal way, her shoulders raising and falling with a punctuated shrug.

"I fought with ze Resistance l'Ryloth for so long."

She glanced at the masseuse with narrowing eyes.

"I was younger zan you when I..."

He was coaxing her down a dark path, and Mags lekku responded, curling across her collarbone.

"My mouth eet makes a fool of me. You are being polite, and my stories zey are not so polite. It ees enough to say zat I learned young not to forgive an enemy. Whezzer eet ees ze Resistance or ze Alliance, I fight ze Empire."

The Twi'lek pilot at last lay back down on the table.

"Are you going to continue or not?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Of course."

The abrupt change of direction took Loki by surprise. He'd almost forgotten himself, as if he usually spends his days chatting with naked women. Promptly, he returned to his tray of oils and reached for his favourite: a blend of koya paste and almonds. It poured like thin honey and had a very subtle aroma. Before it was put to use, the oil was rubbed between his hands to give it some heat, and once it was warm enough, it was applied, first, in short even strokes, followed by long snaking strokes down the length of the lekku.

"Let me know if there is any other part of your body you would like me to... to... treat."

His face was starting to burn. And his eyes were attempting to wander. Professionalism demanded he resist, of course, but it was becoming more difficult with every sigh that escaped his client's lips. Perhaps if he distracted both her, and himself, with conversation, he'd be able to finish her off admirably... with his hands... massaging... in a totally professional way.

"You mentioned the Alliance," he blurted, "What role do you have inside their ranks?"

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Of course. You may begin with ze rest."

Mags rolled over, making use of the donut-shaped head cushion on the massage table. She lay on her stomach, pressing her face gently into the aperture as her masseuse attended to her unseen. The initial reaction to hands on her where she couldn't see or respond was tension, which was quickly kneaded out to restore her languid and pliant state.

"I am a pilot." she spoke in uneven tone as Loki moved his exertions from her lekku to her taut back. "I fly a K-Wing."

Which, given the relative newness of her craft and her masseuse's civilian standing, probably amounted to zero understanding.

"Eet ees a very large bomber."

[Abarai Loki]

"A pilot," he repeated, in surprise. "That's..."

So hot.

"Impressive."

First, the oil went on, in short strokes, climbing either side of her back. Then, gently, he spread it out across the skin in long fluid motions, starting at her neck, down to the base of her spine, and up the sides to the shoulders. This continued for some time, spreading oil, warming the skin, acquainting the client to his touch, and, occasionally, he'd run the tips of his fingers down the length of the lekku just to keep them stimulated and warm. Now, she smelled nice, and her blue skin glistened like tranquil ocean waters on a sunny day.

"I am unfamiliar with the K-Wing. It sounds... different. What kind of armament does it have?"

[Mags Sondeeta]

Unseen by the masseuse, Mags made a face at the question.

"Why? Do you 'ave a side hobby as an exploseeves connoisseur?"

A bit of a sharp tone, and it may not have been warranted. There was no harm in the question. Weren't teenagers always predisposed to an interest in things that could burn or explode? The romance was just a little different when you skipped any real childhood and things like high explosives were just part of the world you inheirited.

"My sheep, eet 'as bombs, torpedoes, missiles, rockets, and two gun turrets to make certain zat no one interrupts zeir deleevery."

Of course, there was romance in a job well done. A little. Mags smiled unseen, a hidden expression of confidence.

"Eet ees enough firepower to destroy an Arquitens-class cruiser weeth a seengle sheep."

She paused, her lekku signing something unknown as the betrayed an unspoken and yet.

"Een theory, zat ees. I 'ave not 'ad ze chance to face a live target."

[Abarai Loki]

"I'm sure you will."

The words were coloured with reassurance. After all, his client, the nameless prickly beauty in blue, did not strike him as someone who shied away from the thought of a fight. On the contrary, it seemed that, at all times, conflict danced on the knife's edge of her tongue. It was not the first time she had been curt or abrasive, and though, each time, he found himself surprised by the sudden and unexpected snap of hard words, they were shrugged off like a rolled up flimsi to the nose. Things were more interesting that way: it was like trying to navigate a woman-shaped minefield with words.

"There is an awful lot of tension here."

His hands kneaded the inside of a shoulder blade, where the muscles were bunched like rocks. On each pass, he dedicated a little more time to the problem area, resisting the urge to probe more into the awesome arsenal of firepower at his client's disposal. She was in discomfort, and it was his duty to make her feel better. And, unlike the lesser masseurs at the teahouse, Wexley Wallis had a distinct advantage. With his eyes closed, he called upon the Force around him. It answered, slowly, at first, oozing like molasses, congealing, to form a pressure upon his shoulders. And, when he was ready, the pressure was released, pouring into his arms, flowing as freely as water until it reached his hands and penetrated deep into the Twi'lek's skin. It was a healing technique he'd known since he was 9, and if it was good enough for repairing cuts and reducing swelling, then it was good enough for a few knotted muscles.

"This will help, but I suspect you will need more treatments in the future. How does that feel?"

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Mm....ohh..."

Mags' eyes widened, then fluttered closed in tactile ecstasy as the masseur seemed to find the exact thread with which to pull her entire tapestry apart. Every part of her fell slack, and the Twi'lek felt that if it were somehow possible, she could become a liquid which might drip through the seams of the massage table to the floor. She cooed and sighed, unashamed at the spectacle. This was what she'd paid money for, after all. Her hands tensed and relaxed. Her toes curled. Her lekku quivered.

"Ahh...mm...ooh..."

She panted for a moment, glad that the masseur couldn't see the look on her face. When she'd gathered her wits, she answered his question.

" 'ow did you do zees? I feel...I could sleep for two days, I zeenk."

Already, Mags' eyelids were feeling as leaden as the rest of her body. She sighed again as her eyes drifted closed. It lasted a moment before she cracked one eye open again.

" 'oo are you? So I may ask for you in ze future."

[Abarai Loki]

At that, he indulged in a victorious grin.

"My name is Wex. I will be glad to treat you again. In fact, I insist upon it: your muscles are as tense as durasteel cables. That is why you feel the benefit of this first treatment so much."

To emphasise his point, Loki redoubled his efforts, working at his client's shoulders and back in rhythmic circles with one hand pressed on top of the other for extra pressure. The muscles beneath the skin were as tough as bantha hide, but they were also strong, and sculpted. There was story to be read amongst the muscles, and the scars, and the tattoos. In his mind's eye, Loki imagined them comparing scars, and sharing the tales of their origins. What an exciting mystery she was, this...

"Excuse me, ma'am, I did not get your name." It was not the most proper of requests. Indeed, revealing names or other personal information was surely at the client's discretion, so he fabricated an excuse, "That way, I can look for your appointments, and make sure you will not be assigned a... lesser masseur."

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Mm?"

Lethargy had stuffed cotton into her ear cones. If only she could smoke in here, that would be perfect.

"Oh, yes. I am Mags Sondeeta. I weell schedule weeth you at ze earliest availability."

Mags heard the curtain at the doorway rustle, and she raised her head up from it's resting place to see her new wingmates enter. She raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"Ah. Boys. I'm suprised to see zat you 'ave fineeshed so soon. Did ze girls even know you were zere? Now you weell 'ave to wait your turn. I 'ave ze masseur's undivided attention."

[Raskor Shokus]

Stepping through the doorway, the towel around his waist was really an afterthought. As though he figured it'd be too indecent to simply strut his way through the tea house with nothing on but a smile. Bare-chested and grinning from ear to ear, Raskor couldn't help the grin turning into a smirk. He chose to ignore her barb, and instead let it bounce harmlessly from one of two hairless pectorals. It didn't mean that he had no words of his own to say, however, and the Caridan licked his bottom lip before gently biting the tip of his tongue for but a fraction of a moment.

"Ah, Mags. So prickly with the words you say. One would think that you give the great effort to avoid pleasure in all forms... "

The smirk seemed to only grow as he let his eyes wander the length of her body.

"Although, I would almost venture to guess that the crusty exterior you wallow in, you have been made to leave."

His eyes turned to the Masseur then, with a genuine look of impressed surprise, and Raskor gave a slight bow.

"My congratulations."

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey less walked behind Raskor than he crept. His brown fur spiky and drying from the baths, he resembled a short-quilled hedgehog wrapped in a towel - a towel hopelessly attempting to hide a painfully obvious spike of its own. It was an embarassing display, and one that Raskor did not share, meaning that either the Caridian either possessed significant control over that part of his anatomy, wasn't as affected by jeeta as a Nehantite was, or he simply wasn't as biologically needy as Joey was at the moment. Joey cursed his own physiology as he wagered it was a combination of all three elements.

"I'm... cool with waiting," he said, attempting to stand in Raskor's shadow, at least from Mags' point of view. The last thing he needed was her mocking him further, though there was no way that the masseuse could have missed Joey's display. Instinctive eyes scanned the young... human? up and down, relishing the tight little short-shorts, and the view they offered, before snapping himself out of it. Surely the masseuse was there simply to be a professional masseuse, and regardless of the tea house's sensual activities in the pool, Joey doubted the cute human was the kind of masseuse who gave happy endings.

His lack of experience with Mags forced him to keep his mouth shut when it came to any sort of snarky response of his own. In time he would learn what made her tick, but it was best to get on the squadron's good side before starting in with the jokes. Especially when one was pathetically attempting to conceal a raging hardon.

[Abarai Loki]

The sudden arrival of two men surprised Loki enough to put him on guard. A familiar tension stirred in his shoulders and arms, stalling his rhythm. Demands for privacy gathered on his tongue, when his client, Mags, dispelled his concerns with her... banter, was it? Pilots. Of course. He quite admired the way she dealt with the intruders, dealing barbs like the lazy nexu that swats at rodents in its lair. He resumed his work, this time more generous with the pressure.

Most of what was said did not interest him, and, even if it did, the tea house was a place where it paid to be invisible. However, when the human congratulated him, his eyes betrayed him. For an instant, he looked, and thought he understood. There was a bow, too, surely in recognition of his power to make the coiled viper come undone. The corners of his mouth ticked upwards in rebellion. His gaze diverted, chasing after his escaping professionalism. What it discovered, however, was an entirely different gesture of manly approval. Loki's eyebrows leapt, and his gaze followed long enough to check the Nehantite wasn't his old friend, Halajin Rabeak. After all, who else would parade their boner around in public like a flag-bearer on Boonta Eve? Maybe it was a species thing.

His attention snapped back to his client, where it belonged. Except this time, he became acutely aware of the skin rolling beneath his knuckles as he kneaded the lumbar area, just above the buttocks. What was wrong with him? Was it the heat? Was it his client's soft blissful sighs? As the intense sensuality of the situation crashed down around him in waves, he focused his warrior's mind to a blade's edge, and silently chanted his mantra of self-control:

Taataani on the toilet. Taataani on the toilet. Taataani on the toilet. Taataani on the toilet.

[Mags Sondeeta]

"Ow! What are you doing?"

Something in the masseur's motion had become less gently sensual, but sharper and more forceful, as if he was trying to give Mags' kidneys CPR. The Twi'lek stiffened instantly, pivoting on a hip to rebuff him with a coarse-haired shin.

The honeymoon, for now, was over. With a huff of irritation, Mags swung her legs to the edge of the table, sitting upright before dismounting entirely.

"Zat ees eet. I am through."

A gimlet expression passed her blue face as Mags massaged the affected tender spot.

" 'Ow much ees eet zat I owe?"

Her lekku still swollen and blissful from their prior treatment could forgive a lot of sins, and the good today had far outweighed the bad. Still, she should have known that her fellow pilots would somehow ruin the experience by mere association. Mags turned, practically feeling Joey's eyes fixed on her - or maybe not.

"And you, Rookie, you should point zat zing somewhere safely downrange eef you want to keep eet."

Not letting Raskor escape, Mags slapped the now-empty table.

"I would say zees ees age before beauty, but I am also prettier zan you too."

[Raskor Shokus]

"Aw Mags. Mags Mags... " There was cheshire intent in his smile now as he whispered the next word.

"Magalani."

His eyes dipped down the length of her lekku.

"So spiky, hateful, and wound up so very tightly."

He dared not touch her, however. There was no doubt that he'd burst into flames should he do that now. No, Mags Sondeeta required a longer, more patient touch. Eventually she would relax. He hoped.

A half-turn to Jofar.

"I would wager that if ever we were able to push the bit of coal up her ass, in two weeks she'd shit out the corusca gem."

[Joey Rabeak]

Keeping one's mouth shut and attempting to appear invisible had often been Joey's method for avoiding getting sucked into awkward situations, and try as he might, even his best defenses were not enough to keep both sides from sucking him in. Still, there was one bit of information gleaned from the terse exchange which he would file away for use at precisely the correct moment - Mags' full name.

His paw attempted to somehow move his towel to better cover himself, to no avail, and he averted his eyes from all members of the hut, wishing he'd not entered in the first place. Personal experience combined with online study made him wish to suggest the dangers of inserting something rough, particulate, or unsterilized into one's rectum, yet he wisely gave a partial smile instead at what was clearly a joke. "Well, we did interrupt her massage," he offered instead, hoping diplomacy would at least earn him half a brownie point back out of the situation. A situation he now realized he'd be stuck in, regardless, as there was only one masseuse, so Joey would simply have to wait his turn and observe while the human with the great butt stuffed into those booty shorts worked on his senior wingmate.

All told, there were worse ways to spend a bit of time, though it was not going to help the proud nature of his loins from causing himself further embarrassment.

[Abarai Loki]

" 'Ow much ees eet zat I owe?"


"Miss Sondeeta, there is no charge. My services are an extension of Madame Maillanaarro's hospitality." He gave a polite nod, "It has been my pleasure."

While there were no untruths in what he'd said, Loki felt that it was worth the extra courtesy to gloss over whatever ill-treatment his client had experienced at his hands. Indeed, it had been his pleasure, although not quite in the sincere manner he hoped to convey. And he left it there, sensing any further platitudes would damage not only his cause, but also his chances of getting his hands on the lovely Magalani again. Pretty, though her name was, somehow, he felt she wore Mags better, like a tailored dinner dress, or a beaten flightsuit that hugged all the right places.

"Sir," he was looking at the tall human, and once he had his attention, gestured to the waiting table, "When you are ready."

They may be comrades, but it wouldn't do to take a back seat while his clients exchanged insults - it was not conducive to a relaxing environment. Perhaps some soothing music, he thought, once things had settled. Perhaps it would cure more than just the tension, too. His gaze drifted over to the Nehantite, only to find him looking his way. He looked a pitiful sight, which was strangely at odds with the defiant protrusion he was sporting. It was a struggle to keep his amusement buried.

"You may make yourself comfortable, if you wish, sir." While he prepared the oils, Loki nodded at the corner of the room, where a pile of luxurious cushions, and refreshments, were waiting. "Please, take a seat."

[Raskor Shokus]

Raskor wasted little time in claiming Mags' vacated spot, a perpetual grin unmoving from his mouth even as his eyes remained happily on the angry form of the Twi'Lek. He puckered his lips then in a silent kiss before making himself comfortable.

"She will find the way to repay you. That one, she is not one to let good deeds go unpunished despite what you may insist."

[Mags Sondeeta]

At the utterance of Magalani, the normally-blue Twi'lek began a dangerous gradient shift into purple. The color was a warning that didn't need explanation. It was a nonverbal cease-and-desist. An outward sign that provocation beyond this point was done at your own peril.

That quick escalation flagged somewhat, cooled by the ever-diplomatic masseur and his statement that the massage was gratis. But just when Mags had relaxed her posture slightly, Raskor opened his mouth at an inopportune time. He barely got the offending sentence past his lips before a blue blur pounced, form-tackling the Caridan clean off of the massage table, sending both pilots spilling to the floor.

"Oh, zen you want a deef'rent masseuse?! Na wa taani soocha ta wenga, you look tense! 'Ere, let me tenderize you!"

Mags bore into the nude Caridan, raining a hail of body blows under his gangly arms.

[Zwane Nkosi]

The sound of scuffle roused Zane from his constant self reflection. Lifting his long face from the surface of the pool, of which he was the only occupant, he pointed his ears at the sound and then rotated his neck to look. It was coming from behind the same curtain he had seen a pair of his fellow pilots disappear behind a moment ago. He had called out "hey guys!" but they did not hear him. It had been so odd to see them here. Zane was here all the time, having a solitary soak in one of the many pools, drinking heavily, and trying his very best to flirt with the other pool goers, but it was hard to flirt when no one comes near you, or leaves the pool immediately when you get in.

Now there was raised voices coming from behind the curtain. Maybe someone was in danger. Grumbling to himself, he stood up in the pool, letting the water fall off his brown mottled skin as he pulled himself clumsily out of the pool. With his hooves on solid ground again he began clopping toward the curtain, adjusting his normal size towel that on him was far too small. Between his natural height and width, he had managed to put on a bit of weight during the off season and was sporting a decent gut. Still, he did his best to wrap the towel and pin it into place.

Reaching the curtain he tried to peer through it while he called out "Hey, is everyone okay in there?" before parting the curtain and looking inside. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped at the sight of a familiar blue woman laying into the body of yet another familiar face. Like an awkward family reunion the various Alliance pilots seemed to be at each others throats. Without even thinking he stepped right into the middle of it, even though later he would look back at this moment and regret it for the rest of his life. Pushing past the fuzzy one he reached down grabbed the flailing punch machine, wrapping his large arms around her shoulders and pulling her off of Raskor with a stuttering. "H-Hey guys. This is no w-way to act!"

[Joey Rabeak]

Titan Squadron had once been famed for its cohesion, its well-disciplined pilots and their cool heads under pressure. As the fight broke out Joey began to wonder what had happened to all that, until he remembered he had been assigned to the remains of Titan Squadron, not the squadron of old.

"Hey, now!" he called out, extending an arm when the scuffle began, as if that would do anything to stop the small brawl in the massage tent. Clearly it did nothing, and so he hitched up his towel before stepping in to pull the two apart - only for something huge and brown to suddenly bowl past him, knocking him to the floor first.

Dazed, Joey looked to realize the mobile mountain had been Zane, who effortlessly yanked Mags and Raskor apart while the masseur looked on from the sidelines... and Joey stole a peek under Zane's towel from his place on the floor, pink eyes going wide. Any chance of his embarrassing protrusion dying down was now ruined for the next few minutes due to what he saw. Still, laying aside was no way to act, and Joey scrambled back to his footpaws to get between Ras and Mags, his arms extended fully to keep them well apart.

"You want to get us all kicked out of here?" he barked. "Mags, that was totally uncalled for. Ras, apologize for... whatever the hell you did! You two want to fight? Suit up and take it to the ring in the gym!"

It was a rare moment of some authority coming from the squadron's most junior pilot, but it didn't take experience to know when people were being dumbasses, just common sense.

[Abarai Loki]

It all happened so suddenly. The tray of oils was sent crashing to the floor, covering it in a slick viscous liquid. Close behind were Mags and the tall human, who tumbled in a manic flailing of limbs, that quickly turned violent. Loki advanced, and almost lost his footing in the oil. It was enough to give him pause for thought: if the Madame walked in on this fiasco, he'd most certainly be in trouble, but, then again, what could he do? He was Wexley Wallis, the droid engineer turned masseur. It seemed like he was doomed to play spectator to an oily naked brawl.

While he drank in the obscene scene, he helped himself to a fig, and made half an effort to sound like he wanted it all to end, failing miserably, "Stop. Don't. I beg you..."

That was when the giant horse alien appeared, and pried the pilots apart. It fell then, to their wingman, to put himself and his erection between them. Loki opened his mouth to speak, and instead treated himself to another fig.

[Raskor Shokus]

The tornado of blue fury that was Mags Sondeeta descended on him with such immediate ferocity that Raskor was honestly thrown into a healthy amount of shock as she tackled him from the table, sending the both of them to the ground in a tangle of naked, flailing limbs. In any other situation the Caridan would've welcomed such contact, but the blows she rained down upon him were more than enough to jerk his thoughts from happier musings.

"Ahoy now! Oy! Hey-OW!"

And then she was gone, plucked up off of him as though she weighed as much as a baby spiro's feather. He lay sprawled on his back, staring up at the ceiling with wide, confused eyes as words were spoken. He recognized Jofar's voice, and the masseur. There had been another voice, a bit more rough; Zane?

The Caridan let out a groan then as his eyes closed, head angling back.

"I have done not a thing," he finally ground out, one hand moving to test his now tenderized ribs. A grumble, and he finally began the aching process of sitting up.

"She has credits enough to properly compensate, is all that I meant."

[Mags Sondeeta]

It all happened so fast. A searing white light that overrode higher restraint or recollection, hiding from Mags the violence of the now.

Vaguely she was aware of the profanity. Curses that danced from Basic to Huttese to Twi'leki with the grace of ballet and the ferocity of a prize fighter. Linguistic virtuosity fueled by anger and lubricated by hot spittle. A fury of tongues set to the beat of a steady pounding jackhammer body blow laid into Raskor as long as she was able to do so.

The Rookie got in the way. Collateral damage. He should have known better. He probably got punched as she was throwing fists at whatever would connect by that point. Later she would find a clump of fur in her tightly-clenched fingers. And fur in her teeth. Not the longer supple hair of a Nehantite. Short and wiry, and the trace tang of blood that wasn't her own.

Stars exploded through the white of her rage, and Mags felt the familiar shift of her nose breaking, but no pain at all.

By the time she realized where she was, the Twi'lek traced the contours of a muscular arm holding her on the ground...and where it met her firmly-clamped teeth.

Snorting a blood bubble, Mags finally let go.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Hey, hey, no, ow, PAIN!" Zane voice escalated rapidly as what felt like teeth closed around his arm, and then definitely felt like teeth as they bit into the muscle of his forearm. Looking back on this moment he should have let go, should have thrown her aside, but instead he froze. The pain and shock set him in his tracks and he watched the back of the Twi'lek's blue head bend down deeper into his arm without an abstract horror; like somehow this was something he was watching instead of experiencing. When the pain finally hit his brain hard he went rigid, standing up straight and smashing his head into the ceiling of the massage booth.

For a brief moment his mind went somewhere else. A happy place maybe. He did not remember afterwards, when his mind was snapped back into place by the sensation of teeth releasing his arm. Blinking his eyes, he looked back down at the world below, and tallied the score. The Nehantite and the Caridan were down for the count, holding their bruised bodies, and even though he could not see it yet, he was sure that there was a chunk missing out of his arm. Just the thought of it was making him feel woozy already; but that might be the cocktail of sleeping pills and alcohol he consumed before climbing into the warm pool to relax.

And right then and there was when it finally occurred to him that he was, in fact, holding a very naked Mags Sondeeta between his arms, and that his arms were very much holding her across the chest.

"I'm- I'm setting you d-down now, Mags." Zane stuttered out as the embarrassment and awkwardness of the situation started to drill his brain. Setting her feet back down on the ground he counted to three and then pulled his arms off, retreating to the edge of the room in a clattering of hooves with his arms held out peacefully wide for a moment before he remembered his injury, and then pulled his arm to his body, pressing his hand against the bloody gash. "Son of a bitch..."

[Joey Rabeak]

For the briefest of moments, Joey felt like things could calm down. Then he saw a blue fist coming straight toward his face, and monetarily his world went into black and white as it slammed into his cheekbone and eye socket with the power of a prizefighter, but none of the precision. It was the latter he was grateful for, as the blow bounced up and off the bridge of his muzzle instead of carrying on straight forward where it could have done significant damage. Stumbling back a step, the Nehantite cleared the way for Zane to snatch Mags up, just in time for Joey's anger to slip in a shot of his own.

It was a right jab, thrown before his reason could stop it, connecting squarely with Mags' little blue nose with a crunch.

Bad move, Jo-Jo. A familiar voice in his head chided. You're in trouble now; that wasn't self-defense.

The realization that he was in a fight dawned on the Nehantite in that moment and he stepped back, thankful that the surge of adrenaline had at least caused his nether regions to forget their desires, allowing his towel to drape itself slightly more modestly over his loins. Only then did the pain in his face surge back to the surface, and he immediately clamped his left paw over his left eye.

"Ow! Fuck, that smarts! I came in here for a damn massage, not a black eye!"

[Abarai Loki]

"If anyone requires medical assistance," Loki began, gathering up the scattered bowls, "The infirmary is two levels up."

He paused long enough to determine whether or not any of them were dying, studying the dazed and wounded sprawled out in front of him, his gaze heavy with apathy. In revealing another, more feral, side to her character, the Twi'lek had turned a healthy brawl into an undignified shambles. Frothing at the mouth, speaking tongues, biting - it wasn't a massage she needed, but an exorcism. Both the horse alien and the Nehantite nursed their battle wounds, hissing, and moaning like old women, and then there was the human, who looked like he was trying to remember what galaxy he was in. They were a sorry sight.

"In the future, attempt to remember where you are," he said, slipping seamlessly into his old skin, "This is a tea house, not a fighting pit. If you insist on behaving like wild animals, you may take up residence with the rest of the livestock."

[Raskor Shokus]

Slowly he sat up, both hands moving down to make sure that he had no broken bones. If anything, he'd be sporting some ugly black and blue bruises for a few days.

The masseur was speaking, but he only passively found the desire to understand. Words that were strung together into sentences that he made the barest of efforts to decipher. The Caridan angled his head, feeling as a satisfying crack sounded from his upper vertebrae. He groaned.

"I am but a victim," his voice broke into a painful cough.

"Though whatever the Madame may wish as compensation for whatever has been damaged, then I will pay it."

Raskor liked the teahouse. He liked it a lot. It was one of those places that a man of his tastes and desires for indulgence could come and escape the real galaxy. And he was not about to let Mags Sondeeta and her rancor-like attitude ruin that for him.

[Mags Sondeeta]

On more nights than most, it seemed that Mags couldn't get a proper night's sleep unless she had given or taken a good beating. And today certainly rated for both. The Twi'lek could feel her knuckles glowing with warmth as she gingerly set her broken nose by muscle memory. A lazy trickle of crimson smeared her upper lip as the former partisan smiled more serenely than a guardian of the whills.

"Zat was not a fight. Eet was a brisk massage."

Sitting on the floor, she massaged the tip of one of her lekku, wetting her lips with her tongue. She craved a cigarette badly.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Goddammit, I can't go back in the pool with an open wound. Thanks Mags." Zane huffed, still holding his arm, as the realization of a ruined pool day sunk in. His attitude was far more gruff and assertive that normal. If not for the adrenaline rush he would have found a corner to sulk in until he convinced himself that he somehow deserved this and it was his own damn fault for getting involved. The wound was beginning to bleed heavily, staining the short hair of his arm as it spread like a dark red puddle.

"Sorry about the mess, kid." He said to the pool boy masseuse before turning his attention back to his bloodied comrades. "I'm going to medical. Don't forget we have a meeting tomorrow." Turning he pushed back through the curtain, his massive body barely fitting through the opening without sticking his head through first and then turning sideways to get the rest out. A few seconds later he stuck his head back in. "Hey, new guy. If you hurry we can get some meat on that eye of yours before it swells into a meatball."

[Joey Rabeak]

It was official, Joey's first trip to the Madame's tea house was a disaster. First he was outed earlier than he would have liked, then his fellow pilots saw him aroused, followed by a needless fight which left him annoyed, in pain, and blemished. And on top of all that, now he wasn't even going to get a massage to relax from it all. Tucking his towel tighter around his waist - his body thankfully having calmed itself - the Nehantite just shook his head in disapproval at Mags, who had been without even the briefest shadow of a doubt the instigator of the whole mess.

And then a huge, powerful horse whose towel barely covered himself told him he needed some meat on his face, and Joey's mind slipped straight back into the gutter. Wrenching it out once more, Joey sighed and said, "Yeah, coming." Turning back to Raskor, he added. "I'm out, dude. You want to hang out later, I'll be in my quarters, or something."

That was the limit of his patience, shortened by frustration at the situation in general and how acting on his own desires wouldn't make it any better at the moment. Nothing more for it but to slip out of the tent after Zane, his footpaws moving swiftly along the poolside surface to catch up. "Heya, what gives, Zane? I've been here longer than Mags, and I'm still 'New guy?'"

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

The commotion hadn't gone unnoticed in a vacuum. A pair of pool boys soon entered the bead door alcove of the massage parlor, followed by Madame Maillanaarro, breathing noticeably a bit heavier due to her hurried entrance. The heavyset matron took a look around at the floatsam and the carnage, her ears pinning back a few degrees.

"What jiss the meanjing of thjiss rruckuss?"

Her eyes immediately fixed onto her masseur, who had better have had a good explanation.

[Abarai Loki]

"My apologies, Madame Maillanaarro, there was a... misunderstanding between my clients that turned sour. Pilots."

It was a throwaway word, tagged on at the end of his rather conservative explanation, a word that was, in itself, less of an insinuation, and more of a damning testimony. He hoped the Madame understood, at least for decorum's sake. In any case, he had no intention on lingering over something ugly, so with a simple hand gesture, he segued into introductions.

"Madame Maillanaarro, may I introduce to you Mags Sondeeta, and her comrade..."

His words tapered off, lamely, for he'd not discovered the other human's name before Mags started laying into him. Annoyed that he had been made to look a fool in front of his employer, Loki busied himself with the spilled oils, and overturned furniture. When he next looked up, they would all be gone from his sight.

[Raskor Shokus]

"Dearest Madame," Raskor smiled gently, even as he managed to return to his feet.

"It was the accident, I promise. The lovely Ms. Sondeeta, she had mistaken my praise of her character as something, how do you say? Insinuating?"

Still massaging his ribs, Raskor finally rolled a shoulder as he leaned over, giving the masseur a rough clap to the back.

"Your boy here, he is diligence personified. The fault is not his."

[Mags Sondeeta]

Mags wiped the last welling of crimson off the tip of her nose with the back of her hand, standing with a sigh. She gave Raskor's sickeningly-fawning and brown-nosing display a glance of chilly skepticism.

"Eet ees as 'e said. Ze masseur 'as been a professional."

The adrenaline was beginning to ebb, leaving a throb in the Twi'lek's head. Apologizing for nothing, Mags pushed between Raskor and Loki.

"I am going to ze sauna."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"jYou arre dojing no ssuch thjing, rrou'a."

Kaleeiha was incensed, and it took a lot to get her long fuse burned down to the end, but the Twi'lek's flippant disregard was an accelerant.

"jYou don't come jinto mjy tea housse and behave ljike that, and cerrtajinljy not to a man. Thjiss jiss a cjivjiljized place, and jI won't have ssuch low behavjiorr. Apologjize to Arr Sshokuss, to jyoung Wex, and to me, orr jyou can ssee jyourrsself out."

[Abarai Loki]

When the blonde-haired man clapped him on the back, Loki rocked from the unexpected weight. It was an imposition, and would've served as more kindling for the irritation simmering beneath the surface, had his words not been so generous. It was enough to grant him buoyancy, but not enough to draw a smile, not with the madame in such a foul mood. And when Mags corroborated his story, alleviating Loki of all guilt, he could scarcely believe it. Even as she pushed past him, in what he was beginning to recognise as her trademark manner, he felt a small but irrepressible fondness for the Twi'lek brute. Because you are a fickle fawning pervert, he reminded himself.

And yet, despite his newfound tolerance for the blue-breasted one, and his desire to put the whole sorry incident behind him, Loki felt a rare flicker of delight at Madame Maillanaarro's words. It rankled him, the way the round beast spoke of men, in that intolerable patronising way, but she had just demanded an apology from the boorish belligerent bitch herself, and it was bound to be good. He straightened up, then, fell into rank beside her fellow pilot, and allowed his eyebrows to lift with a just a delicious fraction of expectancy.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"I don't know. You just feel like a new guy."

Zane shrugged his wide shoulders. His hooves clopped noisily on the tiled floors, echoing off the walls of the tea house. As they passed the pools Zane cast an eye into their depths to see many shapes and sizes enjoying themselves immensely. It brought a deeper frown to his face. That's where he wanted to spend his day, soaking in the warm water with a small harem of ladies fawning over him. The latter would never happen, and thanks to Mags Sondeeta he couldn't do the former either. Exhaling noisily through his nose he turned his head and refocused on his destination; the locker room.

"Probably just because you're young, and tiny. Seriously, I could eat you and have room left over for desert. I-" His sentence was caught short by his hoof slipping on the slick tile and going sideways on him. He caught himself before he fell down, but the sudden shifting cause his towel to come loose and begin falling down his legs. Of course when he hurriedly reached for it with his injured arm, his other arm still holding his bleeding wound, he managed to miss the towel entirely and cup himself in the testicles with enough force to make him stop and cough.

"Godd-dammit." He stuttered through the pain. He tried to bend over and get his towel but gave up and just stomped into the locker room. For fuck sake today was getting worse by the minute. Zane immediately marched up to the sink and began cleaning out the bite.

"Joey, see if you can find some bandages, or gauze, or paper towel. Something. You could fly an A-Wing through this hole."

[Joey Rabeak]

"I'm not that small," Joey began to reply, then suddenly paused when one of Zane's hooves slipped. Due to Zane's lead, and his much longer gait, Joey had only managed to remain behind him instead of catching up to his side, and so it was with a full view that Joey Rabeak watched the catastrophic ballet of embarrassment and injury which played out before him.

Zane's legs still spread slightly as he bent over to catch his towel, Joey's eyes moved instinctively to that powerful, bared backside, presented so perfectly before him. He blinked, momentarily stunned before the reality of the situation caught up with him and he cringed at the sight of the swinging aftermath of so painful a self-inflicted blow. Then Zane was off again, and Joey hurriedly followed, snatching up the fallen towel as his own began to feel tight once more. Already he could feel his eye starting to swell, but he knew better than to close it, as that would only speed things up.

"...You could fly an A-Wing through this hole." The words bounced sideways into the Nehantite's ears as he followed Zane into the locker room.

"I dunno, you looked pretty ti-" he managed to cut himself off there. "Right. Bandages..." He performed an about face, which was likely for the best as that tightness in his own towel was giving way to a tent once more.

There were no bandages to be found, but there were fresh, clean towels, and there had been a small bar just outside the locker room. It wouldn't be good to leave Zane alone for too long, as he might just mope right on out into the main concourse naked, so Joey was expedient about ordering a shot of the most potent spirit the bartender had, and rushed back to the sinks with the small glass in paw, along with a pair of clean towels.

"Here, let me see that," he said, taking Zane's thick, strong, powerful... Careful, Joey!... arm in his paw, and he inspected the bite. Magalani's mouth had to be part jaw clamp, he imagined. "This is gonna sting a bit," was all the warning he gave before pouring the alcohol onto the wound to help clean it, then immediately started to wrap the area tightly with the first towel. All the while his eyes began to drift south, unable to stop himself from sneaking a proper peek as he played nurse. Wasn't the first time he'd done that, come to think of it.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Holy Sh-shit!" He neighed as the liquid was poured over his wound. It might as well be made of fire for all the pain it caused. His other hand bunched up in a fist and was poised to be smashed into the counter top, but he withheld the impulse knowing what kind of damage that would cause. The burning pain subsided and was replaced with a dull throbbing. Opening eyes he didn't realize he'd squeezed shut, he inspected the wound. It looked proper wrapped. Good enough for them to reach the medical center. While he trusted Joey's bandage to hold he did not in any way trust Mags' mouth to not give him a horrible infection.

Who knows what sort of things she puts in her mouth. His arm would probably smell like an ashtray for a week. Normally he would shower before he left the Tea House to get rid of that pool smell, but he would rather get his arm, and Joey's face, looked at as quickly as possible. They had a squadron meeting tomorrow the less beat up they looked the better.

"Thanks, Joey. Normally I can't stand the sight of bloo-"

That was when it hit him, the wave of nausea that followed after the buzz of adrenaline brought on by conflict and pain. He looked sideways for somewhere to sit down before he fell down, knowing what was coming next, but he did not get that far before he felt his knees buckling underneath him as the last bits of emergency energy burned off and left him on empty. As he began to pitch forward he tried to grab the sink, the edge of the counter, anything. Joey tried to steady him but that only put him in the path of the falling tree as Zane toppled forward.

Darkness stole his vision for a moment, and when it cleared he was on his hands and knees with Joey's questioning face beneath him. The Nehantite was pinned between his knees and hands. At least I didn't crush him to death, he thought grumpily to himself as he tried to get up by his legs wanted nothing to do with it. Finally he just sort of pushed himself over on to the floor while complaining loudly about getting too old for this. The power of his limbs returning he managed to get back up on his feet, leaning his massive bulk against the counter once again.

"Don't get old Joey. One day your this hot shot ace pilot, and the next you look like me; with a beer gut and fainting spells."

[Mags Sondeeta]

Sighted directly within the crosshairs of an unpleasant choice, Mags glowered at Madame Maillanaarro and her ultimatum. She didn't do ultimatums. She stepped over red lines, kicking those who drew them in the shins as she passed. However, there was something to be said of the consequences - namely the possibility of her source of truly good Natkochi Lek drying up on this station. That intolerable side effect left her like a Tooka with it's paw in a snare, and she grudgingly prefered to have her appendages oiled and kneaded rather than chewed off.

"Eet ees possible, per'aps..."

Mags burned Raskor where he stood in a glance, turning back to the Madame.

"...zat I did misunderstand, and acted rashly."

She fixed her attention on the masseur, the ice in her expression nearly thawing.

"Monsieur Wex, I apologize."

Lekku bunching on her shoulders, she again turned to the true instigator in all this, still acting so saccharine that he should be attracting ants.

"And you 'ave my apology as well, Lieutenant Shokus."

Prideful and wounded, she felt ill. She didn't make a habit of it, but the very act of wrenching those silly words from her lips made her want to drink, and soon.

"Zat ees all I 'ave to say, Madame. Are we finished?"

[Joey Rabeak]

The world around Joey fell into slow motion as he witnessed Zane's massive form falter at first, then come at him. Despite countless hours in the gym, and a physique that could easily belong on a Male's Fitness magazine, the Nehantite did not possess the strength to support and lift the bulk coming at him, and he found himself falling backwards under Zane's unintentional assault, ridden all the way to the ground where he felt he would be squashed like a bug. Prayers to Garfife were said silently as it turned out Zane had enough wherewithal left in him to help arrest his own fall, catching himself on hands and knees after only squashing Joey slightly, though Joey's head had made hard contact with the tile floor in a most regrettable fashion.

Something else had made contact with Joey, thanks to Zane's lack of a towel, and the young pilot tried not to focus on that, or whereabouts on his own body it was pressing, even if it did inspire his own body to press back of its own accord in that area.

Blame it on the jeeta, Joey. Just blame it on the jeeta"

Within moments, Zane rolled off of him, and Joey helped him back to his feet as best as possible while ignoring the tent in his own towel. "Heh, don't think it's age alone that does it, Zane," he chuckled. "My dad's older than you, and he's a tank. But don't worry, we'll get you back in shape; I need a gym partner anyway."

With everything back to a relative normal, the Nehantite reached up to rub the back of his head. "You should probably get dressed. Whatever's in those pools is having an, um... effect on me, so I'm gonna take a quick rinse off." With cold water. Cold, COLD water.

[Zwane Nkosi]

Zane laughed a little, a surprising sound coming from his mouth. He shook his long head, causing his still moist mane to gently whip back and forth.

"You should probably do something about that boner you've had for the last fifteen minutes. Seriously dude. Stay away from the Jeeta. I tried that shit the last time I was here. I'm surprised the Madame didn't ban me after I blacked out that poor girl's eye."

He called after the rapidly retreating Joey before picking a different shower to clean off in so that Joey could be alone with his shame. Cleaning up required him to get down on his knees and bow his head underneath the sonic emitters, his hands against the shower wall to support his massive frame. It stood there for a few minutes, really focusing on the wub wub of the sonics lest he overhear his fellow pilot doing anything he would rather not be privy to. Finally he turned in place and stood up. Clean. Clopping over to the lockers he found his own and began pulling out his clothes.

"Hey Joey, what are you doing after the squadron meeting tomorrow?"

[Joey Rabeak]

"That must have been a heck of a sight!" Joey laughed at Zane's admission, though he blushed beneath his fur as he attempted to imagine it. At the same time he cursed his anatomy for having a mind of its own, as Zane had a good point about his... point.

It was no accident that Joey selected the furthest shower that he could, or one which used water instead of sonic emitters at that. Water in a shower was a luxury, one not afforded Joey since his time back home on Nehantish, and even then it was only at the public baths. Even if the rest of his trip to the tea house had been an utter disaster, there was no way that Joey Rabeak was going to miss out on an honest to goodness water shower, and once more feel the flow through his fur, working his muscles in ways that no sonic emitter ever could... while simultaneously providing audio cover and liquid lubrication for the furious actions of one of his paws.

A few minutes later he emerged, his anatomy finally behaving itself, and took two rounds in the full-body hot-air dryer before joining Zane at the lockers, where he took the time to brush out his now-glossy and immensely poofy fur. "Dunno, no real plans. Never know when we're going to get a surprise maneuver training at us, so kinda keeping my day free for now," he replied, fishing his underwear out after his brush had done its work. "Might hit the gym or something. Or plan out my next tabletop campaign, if I can find anyone interested in playing," he answered with a shrug before tugging his pants on.

[Zwane Nkosi]

Pausing mid pant leg, Zane screwed his face up and thought really hard for several seconds before speaking. "Tabletop? Campaign? Playing? What is that, like competitive wood working or something?"

He continued to dress. With his pants in their proper position and hiding his previous exposed lower body, he pulled his shirt up and over his long face, a delicate process that involved pulling the cloth along his face until it crested the back and could be pulled down. Unfortunately, in the struggle he managed to drag his sleeve across his bandaged arm, which sent shooting pain through his body and rudely reminded him that they still needed to get to the medbay. In place of traditional shoes he donned small cups that fit his hooves like the metal horse shoes employed on pack beasts. It was more to protect the floor from his card hooves than anything else. They also helped silence the clopping. Going without the shoes was to invite complaints from everyone in the station.

[Joey Rabeak]

No, competitive woodworking would be what would have happened if you joined me in the shower. The thought ran through Joey's mind before he could stop it.

Thankfully it didn't come out of his mouth, and he preoccupied himself with fasting the strap over his tail fly on his trousers. "No, like, tabletop gaming. Role-playing games," Joey attempted to explain. Either Zane took a while to process... everything, or it still wasn't enough. Shirtless and with his black eye still swelling, he leaned an arm against the locker, while gesticulating with his other paw.

"It's sort of a fantasy game thing, where you come up with your character, and give them a class and skills and stats, most of which are determined by dice rolls, and then you and the other players play out a story that is led by the game master - me in this case - who guides you through different scenarios or battle encounters with monsters or bad guys. You level your character up, gaining new skills or improving existing ones, and upgrade your equipment, but really it's the story and the interactive nature of it all that makes it fun. I know it's kind of nerdy, but I love it."

With that he tugged a tee shirt out of his locker and pulled it on, a bit tighter than it really ought to be, but Joey had already established himself with being somewhat vain. Socks and shoes were next, and he continued while tying them. "I could help you roll up a character, if it sounds like something you might be into."

[Zwane Nkosi]

Zane left his coat off for the sake of keeping his injured arm accessible. A chubby equinoid like him ran hot enough to not need one to begin with despite the drafty space station, but it better to have it and not need it than need it not have it. That's what his nan used to tell him at least. Grabbing the coat he threw it over his shoulder and slammed the now empty locker shut.

"So, like a holovid game, but played with dice, on a table?" He was still probing the boundaries of this tabletop gaming that Joey was talking about. It sounded very primitive. No. That was probably the wrong word. It sounded simple. Although, there was a chance that some kind of holograms or devices were involved. It couldn't just be dice. He did enjoy dice games, the kind you lose large sums of credits on. He hadn't touched them since being brought back into the Alliance, but gambling was an ever tempting mistress.

"Is alcohol allowed?"

Asking the real questions.

[Joey Rabeak]

"Naturally," Joey smiled. His own jacket was tugged on, marking him as ready to leave the tea house. "And, yeah, it's kinda like a holovid game, but you get more control over the story this way. I used to run some good campaigns back at the Academy, but I dunno if we've got enough players around here for one."

With that he took a step toward the door. "C'mon, let's go see the doc," he chuckled, then hesitated. "Unless you're still feeling woozy, big guy."

[Zwane Nkosi]

Zane followed after Joey, coat slung over his shoulder, and his injured arm leading the way in an effort to keep it from bumping into anything.

"Careful. Keep talking like that and I might accidentally fall on you again."

Chuckling in return the pair headed out the door. Zane tipped an imaginary hat to the elderly doorman before they stepped out into the Station. There was a clinic close by but they needed to go to the Alliance Medical Facility, which was up several levels in the military only areas of the station. Unless they wanted to pay out their asses for the medical care. Zane wasn't so flush with credits that he could just throw them away. Joey's eye was getting pretty bad, and his arm was starting to itch like crazy. Probably full of cigarette smoking, foul mouthed maggots already. It was beginning to make him paranoid.

"You'll have to give me an invite next time your doing this roleplaying thing. I have no idea how it works but hey if there's alcohol it can't be too bad. You'll have to help me pound out a character. I hope it's not too long and hard to do. Oh, are there ever ladies at these games?"

[Joey Rabeak]

...pound out a new character. The words ran over and over through Joey's head, and he was beginning to wonder if this was Zane's way of letting him know he was interested, or if it was just highly unfortunate word choice and mixed signals. Reaching a paw up to rub the back of his head where he'd whacked it against the tile floor, Joey kept pace with the lumbering equine pilot.

"Well, there can be alcohol, but it's a kind if BYOB thing," he clarified. "And sure, I've had several women in some of my past games. It's open to anyone. Just gotta actually find some on the station that are down for a bit of hot dice action." Chuckling at his own joke momentarily, he gave up as Zane didn't seem to share his levity.

Ahead there formed a line for the turbolift, and the Nehantite sighed. He hated lines. "C'mon, we can take the service lift. My dad always uses the same access code," he suggested, nudging Zane off toward the utility elevator. It was a bit out of the way, and down a sort of back alley off the main corridor, but Joey found it easily enough, and punched in the keycode he'd known since childhood. Like clockwork, the light turned green and the doors opened. "Age before beauty," he grinned, bidding Zane first entry into their own private lift.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Bite me." He said with a grin of his own before stepping forward and promptly smacking his head on the door frame. Years of walking into things had conditioned him against it, and he recovered immediately and adjusted his approach and ducked down lower to clear the doorway before wedging himself into the small service lift.

"I hate these lifts. They definitely did not have me in mind when they designed it."

After making himself as comfortable as he could, hunched over and bow legged, Joey squeezed into the lift with him. Thumbing the control panel, he sent it ascending to the appropriate level. The lighting in the lift was not great. Good lights were reserved for real people, not the workers that used a service lift like this. Still, even in this light, he could see that the swelling Joey's eye was getting worse. It might be swollen shut by tomorrow if they don't get it taken care of, and that would only invite the hammer of god upon their heads.

"The squadron meeting tomorrow is gonna be a blast. They're gonna take one look at that eye and Mag's broken face and throw us in the brig." He said with a disapproving shake of his head. "Still, pretty brave of you to jump in front of a fully loaded Mags Sondeeta like that. I can't say I would do the same. She's really scary."

[Joey Rabeak]

"What'd be really scary is if I'd bit you instead of Mags," Joey chuckled. He then opened his mouth, curling his lips back to fully expose perfectly white, sharp, bestial jaws complete with upper and lower fangs. The display faded back into a smile as he leaned against the lift wall he was nearly pinned to as the lift traveled slowly.

"Thankfully I don't bite. I'm not that kinky," he attempted to lighten the mood, even if it was just distracting himself from the throbbing pain around his left eye. "But if my wingmates are threatened, even by one of our own, you can bet I'll step in to stop it. We're a unit, and we need to act like one. If Mags can't see that, or if she can't act like an adult, maybe she doesn't need to be in this squadron. We don't need a liability among us if we're out there and our lives are on the line."

It was a short yet sobering speech, which gave an unintentional display of Joey's more grown-up side, and a glimpse into his thought process. There had been no excuse for Mags' actions in the massage hut, none at all, and so Joey felt no guilt in doing what it took to bring her back in line while protecting his wingmates. An Alliance MP would have done the same thing, he was sure.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"You might have a lot of sharp teeth, but have you seen my mouth? I think I could fit all of you in it." He said playfully before revealing all his teeth in the most open smile he could. His own teeth were a mixture of tearing incisors and crushing molars; the result of a herbivore species that developed a taste for meat as they evolved into full sentience. Each tooth was huge in comparison to Joey's; big, blocky pearls that were in remarkably good condition considering how much of the rest of Zwane Nkosti had gone south.

"I don't think we have the kind of clout to kick Mags off the Squadron. Sticks might, but he doesn't much care what goes on outside of the cockpit. I know they won't listen to anything I have to say. I'm just the guy who carries Sticks around in his head. I'm a... meat taxi." His speech patterned spiraled down into a depressed tone, and his ears drooped to match. There was an awkward silence filled only with the hum of the lift until Zane's ears perked back up as a thought bubbled to the surface.

"Speaking of Mags, and just between us guys, I did totally touch her tits. Accidentally, of course. I'm not a creep. Kind of lumpy. Probably full of spiders. Can't complain. I'll take what I can get."

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey's eyebrows went up at Zane's choice of words about what would fit in his mouth. It couldn't be coincidence, and there was no way Zane could be making so many innuendos without knowing it. Still, the Nehantite would wait to be sure, just in case.

Then came the comment about Mags' breasts, and Joey's face soured. "Full of spiders? Dude, your mind thinks up some weird stuff, man," he replied. "I wouldn't go repeating that to anyone else, as a heads-up."

He could feel the lift slowing, reaching their floor, so Joey took the last moment of privacy he had to then snicker and say, "But, speaking of between us guys, and touching things: when you fell on me in the locker room, balls touched. Guess that makes us gay, now."

Laughing, he exited the lift first as the doors opened, giving his massive wingmate plenty of room to make his own departure.

[Raskor Shokus]

* * *

His initial clap on Wexley's back shifted to a much more gentle pat to the shoulder as the apology left Mags' mouth with an unseen - yet very evident - upending of dust. Raskor inwardly wondered how often the Twi'Lek actually used that particular word. Obviously so infrequently as to allow such a phrase to gather a coating of fine mist, disturbed only when she brought it back into play.

Stepping away from Wex, Raskor gave an easy smile.

"It is nothing," he verbally waved away.

"Madame, let the lovely flower to depart," stopping in front of the Teahouse's ample proprietor, Raskor Shokus seemed completely oblivious about his state of undress. He maintined squared shoulders and decorum while giving the matron a small, genteel bow with one hand over his left breast. His eyes never left hers.

"Allow me to give to you the compensation for your troubles here."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Kalleeiha placated her well-paying customer with a smile, placing a hand over the one placed on his heart.

"jYou arre too kjind, Arr Sshokuss, mjy loveljy."

She stole a glance back at the cagey Twi'lek, wondering just how much pain it had caused for her to even budge on that small of an apology.

"But, jit jiss not sso much jin the wajy of actual damage jin herre, and jI ssupposse that on the frrontjierr we majy attrract a ssljightljy morre bawdjy cljientele. Keep jyourr crredjitss, dearr."

The Madame glanced to Wex, and she draped an arm over his shoulder.

"Arre jyou ssatjissfjied wjith Rrou Ssondeeta'ss rressponsse?"

The masseur was such a young thing, and from his accounts, he'd had a hard life, what with the factory accident in his youth. No sense in making it even harder on the help than it had to be.

[Abarai Loki]

There was something pitiful about the sight of Mags Sondeeta offering an apology, in the same tragic way it was unpleasant to behold a caged beast, removed from its natural habitat. In all honesty, he was impressed that she had conceded to the Madame's demands, but he was pleased that she had, nonetheless. One round of Natkochi Lek with the quivering hellion was not enough.

He studied the exchange between Raskor and the Madame. Particularly Raskor, who, in the absence of actual garments, clothed himself in a suave confidence and a breezy charm that was everything Loki wished he could be. Even when he bowed, he seemed nothing, if not sincere. Of course, the Madame responded to it as he expected: she had the uncanny knack of being able to flit from dangerous authority to grace and light with the same effortless fluency as Taataani Meorrrei. That put him on guard, always. Especially when he found himself clamped under the formidable weight of her binspo wings.

"I am indeed, Madame Maillanaarro," he said, with a firm nod. Then he turned his gaze onto Mags, "Miss Sondeeta is a valued customer, and it will be my genuine pleasure to serve her again."

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Woah, hey. I fell, okay. It's like not I did it on purpose. It doesn't count. I'm not the one who was poking me in the taint with his boner. You're the gay one, bro." It was all he could think to say as he sputtered out a weak and fragile defense as the door opened. He would have continued to make his case but now they were among other people again, forcing him to clamp his mouth shut and hang his head in shame as he climbed out of the lift and headed in the direction of medical. This part of the station was filled with their fellow military officers. Zane was not going to argue his case around here, where it would spread like wildfire and potentially ruin his already tarnished image. "This is not defeat." He hissed backwards to Joey.

Setting food into the Medical wing was another obstacle that involved folding his body through the doorway. As he rose up this time he went stiff and grabbed his back. "Goddamn. I could use one of those massages." Grunting loudly he pushed through the stiffness and uncomfortable pain and pressed on to the receptionists counter. "Zwane Nkosi and Joey Rabeak. We had an, uh, training accident. Need to get my arm looked at, and his eye. Probably just need an ice pack, or a steak."


"Please fill these out. A medic will see you as they become available."

Taking the pair of flimsis from her, Zane passed one to Joey and then found the sturdiest seat in the waiting room to sit down on. The stylus was incredibly small in his large hands, but with some effort he managed to jot down the basic information requested. Nature of the injury, any medication, the usual questionnaire. Zane casually wrote down "Bit by Twilek." in the symptoms area.

"I'm going to need a stiff drink after all these shenanigans."

[Vek Vek]

"Prescription included within. Trimophrezene. Take orally after meals once a day. If symptoms persist, contact to reschedule for observation."

Doctor Vek passed a parcel to a Cizerack female, who thanked him profusely, attempting an air kiss of gratitude. The Durwi shrank from the attempt.

"Recommend refraining from intimate contact. One week. Please."

With his job done, the Durwi physician turned his attention to an interesting pair of patients in the waiting room.

"Omnicorus Nehantus, male. Subdural hematoma of the ocular orbit. Equinus Sapiens, male...er...incisory perforation of extremity."

Which to Vek, seemed to indicate the frequently-diagnosed bar room brawl.

"Gentlemen, if you please."

[Joey Rabeak]

Stiff drink. He totally knows what he's saying.

Joey kept his mouth shut as Zane backpedaled, hemmed and hawed as much as he could to get out of any responsibility, despite clearly goading Joey on. He was half tempted to reply, "Well, yeah, I am the gay one," but thought better of it. Thus far only Raskor actually knew that, on the squadron, and that was fine by Joey for the time being.

The flimsi was filled out fully, noting he'd been punched in the eye, as well as having whacked his head a hard floor. Active medication included CC-30, vitamin supplements, the occasional motion-sickness pill, and the occasional supplement for... increased male performance enhancement. Joey handed it over when prompted, offering a sheepish smile as he did so.

[Zwane Nkosi]

Getting up as carefully as he sat down, Zane approached the small alien doctor, following him into the next room. His coat was placed on a hook on the wall and he sat down directly on the examination table; an act that most bipedal had to climb or hop to get on top of. Thank goodness for state of the art materials in a military installation like this. The clinic several levels down had examination tables that cracked under his weight. He knew that for a fact, because he had broken one. The rest had been reinforced since then but he came up here instead now. Besides, where else would he get to witness the curious antics of Doctor Vek Vek.

"Twi'lek bit a chunk out of my arm." He started with he held his bandaged arm out to the doctor. "I hope you won't have to amputate."

[Vek Vek]

Vek took the Nehantite's forms, the Durwi's nictating membranes flicking quickly over his eyes as he panned the material. No discernible change in Mr. Rabeak's records since they were transferred. So much the better. Setting those aside, Vek addressed Zwane.

"Mm. Doubtful."

The doctor retrieved a sterile swab from a jar, carefully leaning in to inspect the bite mark. It was relatively small, but the skin had clearly been broken in places, leaving deep red blood to well up and mat into the fur. Vek carefully twirled the tip of the swab against the blood, collecting some of the fluid on the absorbent swab head.

"Cephahensilus Rylothi not known to harbor site-aggressive bacterium or gangrenous agents, though - will be thorough in examination."

Satisfied with the collected sample, Vek shifted his attention to the glum-looking alien.

"Perforation a result of precursor mating activity?"

[Joey Rabeak]

"Ha, hardly!" Joey chuckled. "No, Mags just got pissed off at Raskor and went ballistic. Zane and I stepped in to stop her, and we wound up paying the price."

The brown-furred Nehantite glanced up at Zane with his one good eye, then playfully nudged him in the ribs. "B'sides, there's worse places she could'a bitten you, big guy."

Immediately he regretted the casual tilts of his head, as both his blacked eye, and the back of his head began to ache again, and he touched at the former. "Think I could get an ice pack or two, Doc?"

[Zwane Nkosi]

Zane snorted loudly in reply to Joey's comment. The short hairs on his body bristled with underlying annoyance.

"Only if she bit one of my fingers off. I need both of my arms to pilot. I think it's only fair I get to bite her back."

He gave the air an experimental chomp, letting his lips peel back to reveal his long mouth of blocky teeth. The mental image of biting her back on the arm morphed into his mind the more he thought about it, until a vengeful bite has turned into something softer more befitting a nibble. Shaking his head he banished the image from his mind. For now. He'll think about it later in private.

"I'll be okay." The fire had died suddenly in his voice. "At least I'm not blind on one side. How are you going to monitor your entire instrument panel with that nerf steak you call an eye? Might as well sit on my lap so I can be your eyes and you can handle my stick."

[Joey Rabeak]

"...sit on my lap... and handle my stick." The words ran circles through Joey's brain, triggering all manner of responses that Zane (likely) didn't intend, and the Nehantite cleared his throat as he attempted to discretely adjust his trousers from the after-effects of that comment. Then it dawned on him - maybe Zane did mean it like that! It was it was risky, but the younger pilot attempted to suss things out.

"Well," he said, edging a bit closer to his massive, equine-esque wingman, and he teased a bit of a smile. "If you want, we could give that a shot. Pretty sure I could handle your stick better than you think. Might be a tight fit, though."

There, he said it. There was no going back, now! Well, unless Zane was incredibly dense, at least.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"I don't think it'll- WE will fit. You'll have to help me work off this gut first." A stumble was quickly recovered from and masked underneath a hearty slap of his flank followed by a humorous shake of the far found therein. A sigh escaped his muzzle before he realized it was there. Just the thought of how out of shape he was reminded him that he had once been in shape. Back when he was considered an ace pilot and a war hero. Well, Sticks was those things. He was just Zwane Nkosi; the laughing stock of an entire planet.

"Before you start me on some kind of diet I have a lot of liquor in my flat that needs to go away. Want to give me a hand?"

And other things. Wait, can he have drugs while on a diet? Who would he even ask? He'd have to make a few anonymous posts on the holonet. Tomorrow. Gods willing he would be busy the rest of today.

[Joey Rabeak]

The swelling around Joey's left eye was nearly complete before he was handed an ice pack, and there was no way he was going to see anything out of it for the next day or two, minimum. Much as he hated to admit it, Zane was right in that it would compromise his piloting ability, though the cocky young pilot was determined to work through it. But beside the purpling of the skin beneath his fur from that spreading bruise, another color warmed his face - a pink flush in his ears - at Zane's word slip.

"I think the fit would just take a bit of work," he chuckled tactfully, then reached a paw out to pat that gut. "And, sure, I think I know of a few ways we could help you work this off." A quick rub through the fabric of Zane's shirt, and his paw slipped down and away before a grin worked up his face. "And, big guy, I would love to help you dispose of alcohol. You'd be amazed what this muzzle can guzzle down."

[Zwane Nkosi]

Zane arched an eyebrow in disbelief down at the smaller mammal. "I've got some big bottles. You'll have a hard time getting the tip in your mouth, much less the neck. Uh, I might have a glass your size."

A further witty remark was cut short as the doctor dragged a cold disinfectant over his wound, which chilled like ice while also burning like fire. The pain was momentary, and no sooner had it faded than the doc stabbed him with an inoculation. A speech about keeping his injury clean and avoiding infection followed, but Zane was barely listening, he was still giving Joey a look of disbelief.

"Thanks Doc. Come on, Joey. I think I have some meat we can put on your eye."

A casual adjustment of his trousers as he stood up might have gone unnoticed by most, but he was betting his little furry wingmate would pick up on it.

[Joey Rabeak]

In that moment, Joey began to wonder if he'd hit his head harder than he thought. Thus far Zane's comments could possibly be dismissed as unfortunate wording, but this was different. Blinking his one good eye in surprise, he held the icepack to his other, and in no way missed Zane's adjustment, or the way he said meat. "After you!" Joey blurted without thinking.

Despite Zane's lumbering gait, his size made his stride long enough for Joey to have to hurry after, his heart racing, blood coursing through his veins - and other regions - as he hoped and prayed that at last signals had come across clearly between the two of them!

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Careful, you'll run into a wall. You only have one eye, and no depth perception."

Zane called over his shoulder at the bumbling Joey, so seemed a bit too excited as he followed quickly behind. Zane didn't let the situation get the better of him and walked casually. One hoof in front of the other, a stride that would often leave most behind but Joey's frantic steps managed to keep up. Somewhere deep in his mind he was aware of the situation at hand, how absurd it was, and how he wasn't quite sure if he was okay with it. However, there was something deep down, a warmth in his core, that urged him on. Between the jeeta in the water at the Tea House, the alcohol he consumed therein, the lewd bodies he watched, not to mention touching Mags in the way he did, even if unintentional, had left him in quite the mood.

Now his neglected libido was a goblin on his back whipping him forward and blinding him from reason. Shit. He didn't like this feeling, and there was only one medicine for when his self hatred was flaring up; substance abuse. Alcohol wasn't going to do it tonight. He would have to find a moment to sneak something a wee bit stronger when Joey wasn't looking. Blacking out and forgetting today so that he might feel better tomorrow was not the best life goal, but it was what got him out of bed most days. Why should today be any different.

The silence, though, was getting to be a bit awkward as the pair plodded along toward the military living quarters sector of the station; which was not far from the medical offices.

"I'm in A-2. I've never really paid attention to where the rest of the squadron bunks. Which unit is yours?"

A-2 was one of the larger units usually reserved for more senior staff, such as wing commanders and other commanding officers, but Zane was upgraded after constant back pain from the too small standard units began affecting his performance. It was not much of an upgrade to finally have enough room to stretch out without putting a hoof through the wall or breaking out a light. That didn't stop him from damaging the unit constantly, but it was less frequent now. Great, now he was thinking about just how trashed his unit was. It was a mess. Joey looked like he might be a messy kind of guy. Maybe he wouldn't care.

[Joey Rabeak]

"I'm down in A-19, next door to Raskor," Joey replied. "It's... pretty small, though, even for me. We probably better stick to yours."

Joey didn't overstate the size of his quarters. At seven feet wide by ten feet deep, it could scarcely hold more than his bed, a tiny desk and chair, and his closet. Getting Zane into that room would be just about as hard as getting Zane into...

The Nehantite had to adjust himself at that thought, then smiled as he hoped it was really about to happen. Approaching the oversized door to A-2, his heart beat even faster, fueled by jeeta as much as it was by his own natural interest. Bare footpaw tapping on the thin carpet in anticipation, he bit his lip as he watched Zane fumble with his keycard, then waited for the light to turn green. Joey could swear that if it had taken another half-second, he would have been all over the massive pilot right there in the hallway.

But it did open, and into a mess. Empty bottles, shed clothing, and all manner of things littered the floor, while the bed was a sprawling, unmade disaster of sheets and blankets. It was a far cry from the neat and tidy quarters he called home, and it smelled of horse and alcohol. Joey practically shoved Zane through the door, scarcely waiting for it to shut behind them before half-climbing up his senior pilot to plant a passionate kiss directly upon his lips.

[Zwane Nkosi]

There was an inborn instinct in all Thakwaashi, bred through millenniums of unwanted passengers suddenly hopping on their backs as if they were no more than their unintelligent equine ancestors. The impulse it sent to the brain was one of thrashing and kicking with the intent of violently unseating the poor soul stupid enough to climb upon their back. The instinct bubbled up slowly, fighting it's way through a barrier of alcohol and jeeta, and by the time it finally dawned it was too late. Muscles tensed, leg's squat, ready to thrash, and he was completely disarmed by a kiss.

It awoke something deep inside, in a dark place poisoned by alcohol and jeeta, and rather than buck and fight his instincts shifted. He knew this feeling, the feeling of slipping away, as if something else was bubbling up from beneath the surface to take your place. It was a personality shift. A natural phenomenon among the Thakwaashi. But it wasn't the familiar cool headed and in control sensation of Sticks. It was something new. Something primal, fiery. Dangerous. Aroused.

Shifting control was as easy as grabbing the much smaller Nehantite below the shoulders and pulling him off. The door had only just closed and cycled it's lock automatically before Joey's body was pinned up against it, his paws dangling far from the ground.

"You sure you can handle this, little man?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey's heart raced from the moment he landed his kiss, speeding blood through his veins, and also to a specific part of his anatomy. But the kiss apparently wasn't meant to last, as he founded himself lifted away like a toy, slammed against the door a bit rougher than he had expected, and held there. Had he gone too far? Had he somehow misread Zane's incredibly obvious and unmistakable signals?

The Nehantite's heart raced still, this time with worry, as his one good eye stared into Zane's own, attempting to read his meaning. It was impossible until those words came straight from the horse's mouth.

Needing no further clarification, Joey's body responded before his mouth could, his pants growing painfully tight, and he nodded. "Oh yes," he agreed wholeheartedly. Unable to stop himself, he let one footpaw reach out and up, nudging Zane's own swollen crotch gently with his toes. "I would have gone at this in the showers, if I'd known you'd let me. I think we're both wearing way too many clothes right now."

[Zwane Nkosi]

"I think you're talking way too much?"

His voice was low, almost a growl. Zane pretended to lower the Nehantite back to the ground, but just as his footpads brushed the cold floor he was instead flung across the room to land on the nearby sofa with naught but a twist of the thick Thakwaashi torso.

"Take your clothes off."

Next to the door was the holovid display sitting on a repurposed coffee table. A collection of mostly empty bottles surrounded and in some cases blocked the screen. A half empty bottle of Thakwaashi spirits was selected, it's cap removed with his teeth and spit to the side before the bottle was raised high, letting the liquid pour down Zane's deep throat. All the while his eyes watched his wingmate remove his clothing. Shoulders rotating he shrugged off his coat, passing the bottle between hands. Next one hand reached over his back, grabbing his collar and pulling it over the top of his head; forcing him to break away from the bottle.

Tossing the shirt aside he stepped over to the now naked Nehantite, standing above him, looking down inquisitively. There was a hardness in his eyes that had not been there before. A steely resolve.

"You look even smaller with your clothes off. I don't think you thought this through, little man. Do you think you can handle this."

With one hand his pants were unzipped and from it's contents a new challenger entered the battlefield, hanging out in the open for all to witness.

[Joey Rabeak]

It wasn't exactly the best landing Joey could have made, head smacking into the corner of the cushion awkwardly. But he didn't care. Paws scrambled and scraped over his clothing, shucking off his jacket and pants in record time, before peeling out of his undershirt and intensely colorful, designer underwear, to be as naked as he had been in the Tea House, and just as visibly excited.

In a heartbeat, Joey was on his feet, staring in open awe at the beast Zane had unleashed. Perhaps he'd bitten off more than he could chew? The worry struck him hard, but hormones and lust-fueled bravado overrode it almost immediately. Without asking, his paws were all over it, feeling, squeezing, still in disbelief that it was even happening. "I can take it," he nodded, telling himself more than anything. "I wanna take it all."

That much would be impossible, but damn if he wasn't going to try. He then glanced to the bed, curious to know how Zane intended to go about things.

[Zwane Nkosi]

Somewhere deep down in the recesses of his brain he registered the feeling of pleasure, and it liked it, but it was secondary to the desire to be in control.

A hand grabbed the Nehantite by the jaw and pulled his face back around, forcing him to meet Zane's gaze.

"No. You have to earn the bed. Auditions start now. Don't forget to speak into the microphone."

A forcibly suggestive hand placed itself on top of Joey's head and pushed down.

[Joey Rabeak]

An oral exam, huh? Joey knew this was one test he could easily pass. Licking his lips, he applied himself to the task with gusto, making sure to go in with a lavish opening argument. Linguistics were the art of the silver tongue, and Joey had been told his was made of gold.

Hand gestures accompanied the ebb and flow of his oral persuasion, as he attempted to show the depth and breadth of his experience in the matter, but not a word was spoken. After all, it's impolite to speak with your mouth full.

[Zwane Nkosi]

The student was doing well, considering the difficulty and depth of the test at hand. He was handling it so well that the teacher took a constitutional in the form of finishing the contents of the bottle still clutched in his hand. Tossing the bottle aside he let out a heavy breath and looked back down to check on the student's progress. The buzz from the Tea House was building into a drunken haze as the powerful Thakwaashi liquor began to settle in. The combined sensations of detachment and pleasure was unlike something he had experienced before.

"Don't forget to study the appendices." He instructed his student as he thumbed the waistband of his trousers and allowed it to drop down to his hooves, exposing the rest of his body.

[Joey Rabeak]

Appendicies was a word too large for Joey to get his mouth around, and so he attempted the use of sign language, taking a more hands-on approach, and he found the appendices to be weighty volumes indeed. As his muzzle worked away, his mind thought back to the last time he'd been in such a situation, then blushed as he couldn't even remember that guy's name. Zane would be different, he told himself. They were wingmates, that meant a special bond, right? No, he could worry about that later. Suction was the most powerful bond he could apply to Zane at the moment, and he leaned his head forward to cover more ground.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Not good enough."

Rather than spoil the child the rod was not spared, as it was employed to slap Joey across the face.

"Disobedient students stand in the corner."

Mottled brown and tan hands grabbed the Nehantite roughly by the throat and lifted him from the floor and toss him against the sofa in an assault of push designed to end with him draped over the back and arm of the sofa. The corner. Carefully positioning himself at the rear of the classroom he prepared to begin the lengthy punishment, but not before grabbing the student by the scruff of his neck and pulling his head back so that he could place his mouth directly against his ear.

"Disobedient students get the yard stick."

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey found himself sucking in a huge gulp of air as his mouth was so ingallantly emptied when his teacher decided he hadn't studied his subject in enough depth, only to find his already blackened left eye clubbed with a saliva-wet meat-truncheon.

"What did I-" he began to protest, only to find himself hoisted roughly and thrown over the edge of the sofa, his wingmate taking absolute control of the situation. Joey couldn't think of any class he'd ever taken that was this hard.

Swallowing hard as the fur and skin of his neck was yanked back, electric tingles ran down his throat at the equine pilot's words. Mustering up courage, Joey replied, "I... I'll do my homework next time, I swear!" His words meant less than his actions, however, as he hiked his tail so that his teacher could apply the appropriate punishment.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"Now recite the lesson. I want to hear you clearly."

---

"Gah!"

Waking with a start, Zwane grasped the air above his violently, as if fending off some kind of many armed spider. Cloudy eyes slowly brought the surroundings into focus. His own room. The ceiling above his bed greeted him like an old friend. Every imperfection long ago memorized by sleepless nights. A throbbing hangover was rising from the depths of his mind, demanding attention like a child banging pots and pans together. An attempt was made to shift on to his side, but something large was blocking his path. Jerking his head downward he found Joey asleep at his side, his small body looking small beside the meat of his own thigh.

"What..."

Why was Joey naked. Why was he naked.

"The..."

The room was a mess. He was a mess. There was crusted on who knows what all over his lower body. It pulled awkwardly on his fur when he moved.

"Fuck..."

Grabbing his head, trying to make sense of it all, only proved more confusing when he felt the alien sensation of rubber. Pulling his hand back, he found a single dish cleaning glove on it.

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey woke slowly, his mind resisting the climb through the fog of sheer bliss which had comprised several rounds of the previous night. Pink eyes closed, he murred as his arm wrapped over Zane's broad torso, paw stroking lovingly as he cuddled closer into that warm, powerful body. The Nehantite ached, and deeply at that - oh so deeply - but it was the best sort of pain he could imagine, and one he wished to linger, or repeat the injury which caused it.

To that extent, his paw slid south to grasp the he weapon of mass destruction which had caused the intense ache in his hips, and he squeezed. "Mmm, morning, big guy," he murred again, then lick-kissed his massive lover's bare chest. "I think your naughty student needs another private tutoring session before classes..."

While Joey might not have been fully awake in his head, another part of him clearly was up and ready to face the day, and it too pressed closed to Zane's side.

[Zwane Nkosi]

A gasp, a rejection, and a push were primed and immediately lost when his own body surprised himself with it's reaction to what he thought was a repulsive thing. It felt like a betrayal, and he was more embarrassed with himself than upset with Joey. His body, on the other hand, was reacting on its own and no amount of mental gymnastics, of focusing on the cracks in the ceiling or thinking about blurnsball was going to make it stop from slowly assuming it's full form. With every growing inch came pain; a soreness that he had never felt before.

Except maybe that one time he took way too much Jeeta and locked himself in his room.

"Ugh, my head. Joey. What, what happened last night? Did we have, uh, well you know what I'm trying to say."

He really wanted to reach down and remove Joey hands, but only because it was exasperating his sore member, and also because it felt much nicer than he wanted it to.

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey's paw continued its morning greeting, and he nodded against his lover's chest. "Mmm, we did, and it was amazing," he murred before another kiss to Zane's pectorals. Then one to his upper abdomen. Then his belly. Then... Joey shifted on the bed, sliding down Zane's body, and he had no more to say as his mouth was full again. As were his paws.

[Zwane Nkosi]

"But... HOW? I mean, I'm about as thick as your thi-i-i-i-i..."

Acute sensations send him reeling backwards into bed sheets, his hands reaching out for something to hold and finding only pillows and blankets to wrap wring within his mottled hands. There was still a soreness and pain, but there was also an added sensitivity that was as equally pleasing as it was incredibly discomforting. It made him squirm like a child getting his mane clipped. Leg muscles twitched uncontrollably, threatening to crush anything in between them.

[Joey Rabeak]

For the next few minutes, Joey worked as much magic as his jaws and throat would allow. He was ravenous, addicted to his new drug, and shameless in his ministrations. Thoughts of the evening before drove him on, fueled by desire, as well as the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the start of something which could last.

That idea slowed him, not out of fear, but out of respect and care for the massive pilot who had chosen to be with him. It was more than just a one-night fling, Joey hoped, and he wanted to make that clear, all the way through the moment where he finished his breakfast and panted for breath afterward, holding Zane close.

"Mmmf, good morning? More like best morning," he moaned, his good eye closing softly, as his left eye was still swollen shut and purple.

[Zwane Nkosi]

Oh god. It was so weird. Where did this all come from. How did it begin? Yesterday was a blur. There were snippets of memories, but they were almost third person, like he was viewing it from afar. It was the way he remembered things when one of his other personalities took over. They were all one and the same but it was all kind of weird and hazy trying to remember what the mindset did. It was a confusing and hard to explain special abnormality. One that even he grappled with understanding. He only had one other personality, and that was Sticks. His pilot mindset. As far as he knew there were no sexual undertones to that persona. Sticks was all business.

Come to think of it he didn't even think his normal self was into this. Sure he flirted with Joey a little at the Tea House, but only because it was nice to get some compliments and have somebody be interested in a world of women who did none of those things. Zane liked women. He knew he did, because he'd been eyeballing that Gradoona lady from afar because he was too much of a coward to go talk to her. Only girl in the whole station his own size. That's who he should be having this special moment with. Not Joey.

And yet, it felt so great. It was amazing to be touched. It'd been so long. Maybe there was a lot he didn't know about himself. Maybe this was just a phase. Who knows. He couldn't focus on his train of thought anymore because his train had just left the station, causing a throaty neigh to escape his deep throat as his body curled inward with muscle contractions before finally releasing his limbs to fall limply to all sides.

"Its, uh, looking up, I guess. Except for this blasted headache. Oh no." That last bit rolled out of his mouth as he looked sideways at the wall chrono. "We need to get ready for work. Like now."

Sitting up he cascaded into a standing position, letting Joey roll off of him like water down a mountain. Oh, he felt really gross. Just covered in unmentionable dried on fluids. Didn't help that Joey was a messy eater and now he had fresh liquid drying in. Eyeballing the refresher door, and then looking back at Joey, who was still engine primed, a sight he lingered on for longer than he wanted, made it clear that the two of them cramming into the shower together was going to make them really late.

"Come on, get dressed. We can shower at the Barracks."

[Joey Rabeak]

His moment of peace, love, and lewd happiness came crashing down in more ways then one as Zane abruptly stood. Positioned on the near side of the bed so that Zane wouldn't squish him against the wall, the Nehantite was heaved clear off of the mattress, falling onto his already-sore rump in a tangle of linens which needed to be washed just as much as he and Zane did. Heaving himself out of them and up to his feet, he glanced at the wall chrono as well, then realized Zane wasn't trying to make excuses for getting out of bed.

"Oh, shit!" he yelped. "Yeah, we gotta go!" Wiping his muzzle on the back of his paw, he scanned Zane's disaster area of a room for his shed clothing, finding everything but his overly-fashionable underwear. Not that he'd manage to fit into them at the moment, anyhow. Yesterday's trousers were tugged on, and his shirt before he realized just how sore he felt, and winced as he moved. "Maybe that fourth round was a bad idea," he groans, but can't focus on that, or the fact that his typically tight six pack was a bit filled in by a number of deliveries to both his day and night drop boxes.

"I'm gonna grab some fresh clothes, I'll meet you at the barracks!" he hurriedly sated. He headed to the door, then rushed back to pull himself up onto Zane for another kiss on the lips - albeit a brief one - before vanishing back to his own quarters down the hall for some clean clothes, limping a bit as he attempted to jog. Sore as he was, he managed to catch back up to Zane's long, loping gait, and together they entered the barracks, making a beeline to the locker room to strip and hit the showers.

"Garfife, I hope no one is here," Joey muttered under his breath, knowing it'd be impossible to hide what had happened if anyone saw him or Zane in their current condition.

[Mags Sondeeta]

Standing under the sonic oscillator, Mags stared up at the main emitter with an ever-present frown. Her broken nose had been set and was fast on the mend thanks to an adhesive kolto strip, but it had left the blossom of a bruise encircling her bridge like a purple corona, darkening beneath the corners of her pink eyes. She reached to the utility cubby nearest her along the tile wall, picking up a bottle of colloidal body wash, which she dolloped in a generous portion in the palm of her hand.

"You can stop looking at me, Raskor, I can feel eet when you do."

Not out of any lascivious intent, or at least none that was abnormal for the overly-friendly Caridan, it seemed. He simply oozed a gregarious radiation that annoyed the Twi'lek out of principle. Mags lathered up, the frothy white foam setting against her skin for a moment before going rigid in the sonic barrage. It atomized into fragrant vapor, drawn into an ever-running vent beneath the main emitter.

"I 'ave no interest in 'earing about your exploits sexual. Certainly no weeth any over-large Cizeri madame."

[Raskor Shokus]

His eyes had only been on her for but a few moments. It seemed that Magalani Sondeeta had a hidden sense about her that could detect such things, and looking away, Raskor continued on with his own cleaning rituals. It was never really the same, his methods. Sometimes the shampoo came first, sometimes the foaming bodywash. Sometimes he cleaned his fingernails first, and sometimes his teeth were the first to be tended to. There was no real rhyme or reason, only the fact that each indeed got performed. He was meticulous, but sameness often became boring and so his habits - while largely much the same in a general sense - tended to be... at the whim of what he felt on any particular day.

But Mags; there was a creature that seemed to defy as much convention as any.

"Ah, but the Madame, she would not have the likes of this one."

A sad fact.

"Not for yesterday, not for today, not for tomorrow."

Today, his fingernails had been the first to gain his attentions, and once those were done he'd moved on to inspect the Twi-Lek's handiwork evident across his ribs and midsection.

"I much doubt that there is not a one in this galaxy that would have such a being as mottled as myself."

He sent a wink her way.

"A talented artist with the fist, you are."

[Mags Sondeeta]

Mags then turned to face the Caridan, lathering her lekku gently as she pined inwardly for the pleasant comforts of Wex and his surprisingly-capable Natkochi Lek.

"Zat ees temptation enough to make you my favorite canvas. I am no certain which of you I pity ze most in zat 'orrible coupling. I only know zat I do no want to ever 'ear of eet."

[Zwane Nkosi]

Another kiss paralyzed him with his shirt halfway down his torso. Looking around uneasily at nothing in particular, he waited until Joey was out the door and then wiped his mouth. It felt weird and wrong. He was going to need a day or ten to process just what had happened and how he felt about all of this.

It felt like someone else had hijacked his body for a ride and run it through a few ditches.

The nearest and fastest clothing he could locate and pull on just so happened toe be yesterdays outfit. Zane had fresh clothes at the barracks so that was not a real concern, and before two shakes of a newborn colt's tail he was outside in the hallway and heading toward the barracks. He moved with a slower gait, his hooves thudding against the deckplate even with the rubber soles quieting them. Joey appeared at his side, as if out of nowhere and together they completed the last leg of the journey.

"Just so long as the flight leader isn't in there I think we'll be okay. Oh, he'll probably notice all the bruises and bandages. Fuck."

Stepping through the door into the shower room they were greeted by the sight of Mags and Raskor also in the showers, and starring daggers at each other. Raskor from the corner of his eyes and Mags with her uncanny ability to do it without actually looking at anyone. Slinking to his locker, as best as a being of his size can, he flipped the combination lock open and pulled free the change of underclothes and his flight suit. It was another damn drill day after all. As he stripped off his clothes he was incredibly aware of just how gross his coat was. Sticky spots here and there, matted clumps, and dried blood where his bandage had leaked.

Rounding the locker he grabbed the very closest shower and fired it up with a bit more gusto than usual. The activation stud cracked a little. The sooner the sonic fired up the sooner he could clean off his shame.

He said nothing.

[Joey Rabeak]

A jet of spray bacta in his quarters had helped the swelling go down on Joey's left eye, though it was still clearly blackened and he could scarcely see out of it at all. That same eye was turned toward Mags as he entered the showers, partially in an attempt to show her what she'd done, and partially so that he didn't have to look at her.

What the others saw of him, though, he didn't care. Perhaps the squadron hadn't known his orientation before, but now they did, and he was not ashamed of it. His own sonic shower cracked on, and he stepped into its beam path to set about getting himself cleaned up as it it were any other morning. Blunt claws raked through his fur, shaking free pulverized dust of dirt, grime, and protein as he worked himself from top to bottom, though some areas required more manual effort than others. He said nothing, as there was nothing to be said. Whatever he wished to express to Zane would best be done in private, and the sooner he could put the embarrassment and painful scuffle from the Tea House the night before, the better. Bygones could be bygones, he told himself; it was unwise to begin a relationship with your wingmates on the wrong footpaw, and he was sure Mags did have some form of remorse for striking him unheeded.

Though if she tried it again, it'd be her turn to feel teeth, and his were much more savage by design.

[Raskor Shokus]

One hand was in the process of wiping over an opposite shoulder as another body entered the delightfully designated community shower. He'd been aware of Zane's entrance, though from the looks of things coupled with the sharp protestations of the shower nozzle's activation stud, he figured it best to simply remain in the realms of silence. Even in the quiet though, they had become bonded - brought together by one common denominator.

They'd been assaulted by one Mags Sondeeta and lived to tell the great tales of their survivals...

And then the third of their glorious party made himself present, and the trio was complete. Three unfortunate souls marked by a vengeful, voluptuous, and voracious blue vixen.

"Jofar! It is the best of mornings, yes?"

[Joey Rabeak]

"Bit sore, but otherwise good," came Joey's response, his back to the others as he worked on his chest and abdomen. "You make it with that big Ciz lady?" he couldn't help but chuckle. He hardly needed to point out that the condition of Zane's fur and his own were the result of a mutual experience, but in the back of his mind Joey hoped they weren't the only two to get lucky after that trip to the Tea House.

And while he cleaned himself up, turning to show a smile of no worries to Raskor, despite his blackened eye, the Nehantite couldn't help but wonder if it had all been a fling, or if there might be some sort of future with the massive pilot silently showering next to him.

[Mags Sondeeta]

The bawdy talk about Raskor's insinuations towards the tea house matron soured Mags' expression all over again. She turned to face Joey, the frown on her face dissipating somewhat into a neutral expression. She appraised his condition with a critical eye, as if looking at a painting on the wall.

"I am glad zat you are no permanently damaged, rookie. Zat ees damage collateral. Next time, I 'ope you don't zink you 'ave to take Raskor's beatings for 'eem. Save ze 'eroics for out zere, where zey matter."

The Twi'lek cut a sharp glance back at the Caridan.

"'E ees a pig, but 'andsome I suppose for a pig. Let 'eem take ze shots 'e ees due next time."

[Zwane Nkosi]

It would seem that no matter how high he turned on the sonics or how hard he scrubbed alongside it he just could not feel clean. Even after all the dried mess and debris was cleaned away it felt like it was still there, staining his skin for everyone to see. The frustration was mixing with his ever growing hangover to create a black storm cloud over his head.

"It'll stop being a good morning when the lieutenant sees what a mess we are and makes us wash the K-Wings. Again. Mags must drive those things through every space puddle and floating dirt cloud."

In the end he simply gave up on the sonic and stepped out of it, his usual timid behavior absent as he strode back to his locker while grumbling to himself under his breath. At least that part was normal behavior for him. From his locket he went digging for a bottle which he popped the top off with enough gusto to send the lid flying off where it hit the locker face and ricochet off into the distance. He poured out one, two, three, no four of the large white pills and popped them into his mouth. They were ground noisily into dust by his massive molars.

A new bandage was applied to his arm before he started pulling his clothes and flight suit on.

[Raskor Shokus]

His scrubbing ritual progressed, and it wasn't long before he felt thoroughly refreshed. A flick of his wrist turned his shower head off, and Raskor took a step back, his body turning about to follow after the departed Zane.

"The Blue Goddess, she is still spiky, Jofar. Tread carefully my good friend."

His hand reached out to deliver a heartfelt pat to the Nehantite's shoulder.

"Alas, the Madame... she still eludes me. Perhaps the next time my good lucks will not fly away."