Arranging Matches

[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."