Worst Case Scenario

Two of the Twi'leki came forward to verify the credit chips contents, with a hand-held device that didn't look entirely legal in its hodge-podge appearance. Starborn's eyes lingered on the pair as they tensed in anticipation, though his attention soon shifted to Emelie. She looked a little different to the last time he'd seen her – a lot different, in fact. For starters, she was fully clothed. Her outfit was high-class and prim, the kind of thing that was just begging to end up rumpled and filthy on the floor...

“It's legit,” said a voice, bringing Starborn out of the day-dream he'd slipped into.

“Uh huh,” Salvo was rising to his feet before any official signal could be made to hand him over. The self-certainty he radiated was strong enough to smother any self-anxiety he might have felt over wearing the Twi'lek body-glove. Brazenly, he reached out and snatched up a glass of something blue that sat in front of one of the sabacc players, knocking the contents down in one.

“Wish I could say it's been fun, boys, but a a'ways was a fahkin' awful liar,” he said, bringing the empty tumbler back down onto the table with a sharp smack of glass against wood. He skirted the edge of the group, until he was clear of them all and within the protective sphere of Shadowstar's bodyguards. Then, rather than waiting for his escort, he strolled on by, encouraging Emelie to follow with a cheeky slap to her perfectly formed behind. When she looked his way, Starborn merely grinned.

A bemused smirk remained on her lips as she shook her head at Salvo, it held even as she turned to leave and caught the eye of one of the guards with her. The smile the man had told her that he had caught the little exchange and Emelie raised a finger and pointed at him before letting the cautioning "Don't..." slip from her lips, carrying the multitude of meanings along with it.

Back outside the sun was as unmerciful as ever and the moment she stepped outside a small groan of discomfort left her.

"Should have made this meeting at night..."

There were actually a lot of should have, could have thoughts that were beginning to form in her mind. But as Emelie looked back to Salvo she instantly was overridden by instinctual course of action... She walked up to him slowly, heels causing her hips to sway slightly, came to a stop just in front of him... and then came the slap that briefly drew the attention of those in the street.

"We are not taking another step until you tell me what the hell this was all about? You have some nerve! I haven't seen you in years and you call me to bail you out of some pihua, bai chi ..." The string of curses continued.

Her cheeks flushing slightly as she let out the anger that had been bottled up at him since the night before while attempting to keep her hangover from bringing it to a halt.

The barest hint of a smile threatened to twitch the corner of Salvo's lips, as he stared back into the face of her tantrum. As her words collapsed into the musical spacer slang she'd picked up in stars knew what arse-end of the galaxy, the smile won the war against his vain attempts to keep a straight sabacc face. There might have been something terrifying about her, if he hadn't known – from first hand experience – what anger like this so often degenerated into. The fact that his face stung was just more confirmation of how passionately she felt. Sidling a step closer, he cocked his chin at her.

“You miss me, then, ey?”

Emelie's ranting stopped and she glared at him for a moment, eyes wanting to drill holes into his head. Her head was pounding all the more and the determined look of anger faded into a pout. As much as she wanted to hate him at that moment, that stupid grin was a welcome sight.

"no..."

Completely oblivious to the lingering gazes at the scene the two were making her arms suddenly were thrown around his shoulders and her lips pressed to his in an overly passionate kiss that entirely conflicted her own words. Yes you stupid piece of space trash, I did miss you... And then a giant speeder wreck happened in her head and she quickly pulled away, her hand hitting his cheek again with another slap.

"For frak's sake, Sal... I have a boyfriend now."

At first, all that confession got was a laugh – but when the frown and pout still clung to her lips, all stern-like, Starborn wondered if she might actually be serious. A girl like Em Shadowstar didn't go without company for long, but he'd never known her to be a one man kind of woman. A life of crime - tearing from one end of the galaxy to another with the law on your rear thrusters - didn't exactly form the most solid foundation for a relationship. For Sal, who was starting to feel the heat inside his skin-tight onesie, the matter of who Emelie was or wasn't seeing was essentially a non-issue.

He pressed one palm to the small of her back, giving her bodyguards a glance as he did so. “Where's the ship? An' please tell me you've got an 'ydroshower.”

"Yeah, it's got one..."

Her head nodded back towards the direction of the starport lazily before she began walking towards the same way. A glance back was given to Salvo, then to each of the guards as she mentally made the note that there would probably have to be some sort of credits exchange with those two so they didn't start speaking up about what had just happened. Not that she couldn't put a quick end to any rumors they started either... funny how people could just go missing sometimes.

Emelie slowed her steps slightly so that Salvo was at her side and she cast him a rather mean smile.

"You know, it is horribly tempting to make you stay in that suit for a few hours more. Might be entertaining enough to cut off some of the credits you owe me now."

As he fell in-step alongside her, Sal threw an arm around Emelie's shoulders.

“Enjoyin' the view?”

He nodded down at himself and gave her a wink, shameless to the point of offence. The skin-tight suit was not designed to be aesthetically pleasing, especially not a frame that was broader than the average Twi'lek's. It left little to the imagination and although Salvo Starborn had a big mouth on him, he wasn't all talk, a fact which the woman presently at his side could attest to.

“You know am good for the credits anyway, righ'? Once a get back on me feet an' aw that.”

"I would certainly hope so. I'd hate to have to take it out of you in other ways."

As they continued to walk she eyed him toyingly. Salvo was another one of those that brought out the playful banter in her. Not that it was necessarily a difficult thing upon first meeting with anyone, but to be able to keep that sort of thing up over a few years, now that was where a select few were very different than a great many.

"Of course, I find it very hard to bring myself to start destroying things that I know are better left in tact..."

The hinting of a smirk tugged at her lips again. There was a moment of silence, just long enough to let the thought sink in before she rather offhandedly, yet somehow viciously delivered the last bit.

"Even if even in pristine condition are they barely rank above your average exogorth dren."

The cruelty was instantly dropped with a playful shove with her elbow.

"C'mon. Let's make you look like a normal person and then we can start talking about how you're going to make me my credits back."

Another short pause came to her as a thought popped in her head. Probably not the best idea... but it would help kill the hangover.

"I think I have a bottle of Membrosia on board that I've been meaning to crack open... you game?"

“A'ways, babe. A'ways.”

When they reached her yacht, Salvo gave the Baudo-class a look over. It was a classy piece of metal and a step up from the YT models he'd been used to flying.

“You buy this all yersel'?”

Emelie glanced up, just enough for the harsh sunlight to reflect off the ship and catch her eyes before she let a small pained groan leave her lips as she looked back down, eying Salvo from beneath the large brim of the hat she wore.

"Since when do I need help from anyone to get what I want?"

Despite the temporary feeling like the best thing in the world would be to go lay down somewhere cool, Emelie managed another playful smile.

The instant change in temperature when she boarded the yacht was welcoming, even if they entered into one of the garage areas where a speeder was kept. The walk into the lounge area was quick, and the instant dimming in light made the room almost seem as if it was pitch black before her eyes adjusted. A large couch was found quickly enough and she dropped herself into it, rubbing at her temples.

"Stairs to the second level are up on the left, two refreshers are up there, you should be able to snag one of the showers for a bit..."

The look Emelie gave to Salvo was toying, and answered the question of if she'd be joining him with one swift negative. One of the men who had been acting as her bodyguard on the planet received a look as well, though not quite as flirtatious, more to silently tell that they were to keep an eye on Salvo until he reached his destination, to keep him from wandering too much.

"One of the crew should be able to give you something a bit more comfortable to wear. I'll be down here when you're done. Then we'll hit the bar."

There couldn't have been much, within the realms of human imagination, that would have been less comfortable than the body-glove Salvo was currently filling out. By the time he had extracted himself from the skin-tight fabric – the lycra snapping painfully against his sun-burnt flesh and eliciting a groan on more than one occasion – he was in a foul mood. An ice-cold shower went some-way to soothing both his temper and the after-affects of time spent in the glare of Ryloth's sun.

There was a pair of dress trousers and a pressed shirt waiting for him when he stepped out of the shower. Again, it was an outfit tailored for a slimmer man. Sal rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and left the collar undone. There was something in one of the trouser pockets: a packet of death-sticks. Smiling at the unexpected find, Starborn patted the other pocket and found a lighter. Perhaps the closer had been made for him after all. He waited until he was in the hallway before lighting up, the first drag from the 'stim like a little breath of heaven.

Emelie was just as he'd left her, though she'd shed the wide-brimmed hat.

“Nice gear,” he tugged at the shirt. “Wha's this 'bout a bar, then?”

The sight of Salvo in what most would consider nice attire amused her perhaps more than the little number the Twi'leks had tossed him in. Emelie half wondered if perhaps that was the first pair of slacks the boy had ever worn. He looked good in them though... damn good.

Frak's sake, get a hold of yourself.

Her head shook slightly, chasing away the odd persistent memory, reminding herself that she was, after all, supposed to be rather unhappy with him at the moment. Pirate... yep, that was all it took to remind herself of that. Yet there Salvo still was, still taking a drag off that damn stick and looking like he hadn't probably just experienced the worst day he'd had in a long damn time. All the rationalizations were starting to make her head hurt. Or maybe that was just the hangover. Either way: only one cure.

Emelie got to her feet slowly, gently rolling her head to try and relieve some of the tension in her neck, her hand came to gentle kneed at the particularly irritated muscle as she began to walk away from the large plush couch she had been sitting on.

"Yeah, it's over here. Huge ship like this has it's benefits..."

They passed a few closed doors, Emelie knew one lead to the swimming pool that was installed that the very concept of made her laugh - pool in space, who would have ever thought that would work. Another door was to the shooting range, that just seemed wrong until you realized that standard blaster bolts had really no chance of penetrating the ship's hull. A few more doors lead to various bedrooms of all kinds. Finally she came to the one she wanted, pressing the panel to let the door slide open to reveal a fully stocked bar that even had a sabacc table and a full size billiards table as well. Home away from home, sure beat the dren out of the little A-Wing she'd been flying about for the better part of her days.

Only thing that was missing was a bar tender, which Emelie quickly righted by taking up residence behind the counter, already mixing herself a concoction she knew damn well would take the edge off what she was feeling.

"You better tell me what you want or you'll end up with a drink that'll put you on your ass and tear a hole in your stomach on the ride in."

Only a hint of the joking nature came through, she'd lighten up again later. That friendly nudge of a reminder of what Salvo had become, what he very well still might have been was just a bit too fresh.

As he passed by each closed door, Salvo felt the innate and near irresistable urge to push it open and see what was inside. There was something about a closed (and particularly a locked) door that called to him – but he kept on walking, a half-step behind Em as she lead the way into the ship's bar.

It was exactly what he had expected, the shelves like the display cabinet of the worlds most indecisive alcoholic. Em was right at home behind the counter. She mixed her drink like a pro, with the precision of a woman who needed her own personal bartender to make sure that every measure was just right.

“Wha'ever you're 'avin's sounds good t'me.”

Sal grinned. Back in the old days, they'd made a habit – and a game – of trying to match each other drink for drink. It was a game where, in the end, they were both winners.

A small flash of light emanated from the glass as she mixed in the final liquor to the cocktail. It lit up the room briefly in a brilliant green before extinguishing itself just as fast as it had appeared.

"You sure about that?"

Emelie grinned in a way that was purely wicked, and not entirely friendly before she took a test sip of the alcohol that was slowly shifting from a deep emerald to a light teal color. Her eyes widened for a moment and she looked at the drink accusingly before shrugging her shoulders and took another taste test of it.

She placed the glass back down on the bar top and uncorked another bottle and added in a dash of some unlabeled clear liquid.

"I mean, mixing such a strong drink with damn near heat stroke... that can't be a smart combo. Might kill a man."

As she let the grin on her lips spread she nudged the glass towards Salvo with a single fingertip.

“Smart?” His brow wrinkled, then he grinned. “Sweethear', you know me better than tha'. Way I see it, I've earned this.”

Without even a hint of hesitation, Salvo took a sip of the volatile green liquid. What he had earned, apparently, was the feeling of being punched in the gut. It wasn't quite enough to bring tears to his eyes but he was in no rush to go back for seconds. Licking his lips, Salvo gave his stomach the chance to adjust to the lethal concoction now sloshing about inside of it. He pressed his fist to his lips and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Look... 'bout them tail-'eads, Em. Thing is, one of 'ems got 'is noodles in a twist 'bout me, see. Thinks I nicked a ship-load'a slaves from 'im...”

Her own consumption of the drink was far less violent and in fact she looked fairly indifferent to it's punch. It was with a similar demeanor that she assessed what Sal had said.

Another small, almost delicate sip of the drink was taken before she narrowed her eyes on him.

"Well... did you?"

"Course I did but tha's beside the point. Mug should'a kept a better 'old on 'is gear." Leaning his hip against the bar, Salvo shrugged one shoulder and chanced another drink, deciding that the buzz would eventually have to outweigh the gurgling in the pit of his stomach. “Point is, 'e thinks I'm workin' on me tan in the Bright Lands right now. Getting' the jump on 'im's gonna be a piece a' rhyscate.”