A Stew Best Served Cold

[Saint]

The talk ceased as an officer approached, giving Norman and his team leaders a sharp salute. Saint was quick to return it, his gaze remaining on the man until he slipped out of sight. Glancing about the table momentarily, Norm sat back a bit, slapping a hand atop the table as he remarked, "We -do- look like a table of Troopers. Feck it. Spread out. We'll talk business t'morrow. T'nite, find yerselves a friend... be it drink, woman, or money... I don't care."

With that, Norm pushed up from his chair himself, leading by example as he made his way past a few tables and chairs towards a lone woman (Najira) whom had just been speaking with the Twi'lek Commander only moments before she was called away. Laying a hand on the back of a chair, he inquired briefly, "This seat taken?" The Trooper didn't really wait more than a second if that before seating himself there anyway. Extending a hand across the table, he introduced himself, "Name's Norm. You enjoyin' y'self t'nite?"

The business talk had lost its interest. True, this was more or less an Imperial tavern, but the point of a tavern was for rest and relaxation... and a bit of flirtation mixed with intermingling. He'd have plenty of time to sit around and chat it up with his fellow Troopers later. For the moment, this nicely attractive female would be the focus of his conversation and attentions. A good break and distraction from the day to day grind he had been in of late with his squad's high op-tempo.

 

[Miranda]

In those fleeting minutes from when the Twi'lek soldier had departed outside with the Admiral, Najira had found herself eavesdropping (as she was always wont to do in her profession) on two commandos at the table behind her.
They traded stories.
One seemed to already know many of the Redgate Chronicles, tales of glorious battle and war on the Outer-Rim that dated before the time of galactic peace, but the other seemed to know more. And so the Mirialan woman continued listening, slightly entertained by the recounts of bravado, rumours and fables of soldiers and merchants and scab-pirates, the miscreants and warriors that lived below hyperspace routes.

She had been so caught up in her listening that she had only noticed Norman when his dark silhouette had reached the edge of her table, and snapped from her light entertainment her eyes regarded the man from beneath her shaded hood.

"Please, be my guest, Norm. Enjoying the evening as much as I can I suppose", she offered a wry smile, "Najira, pleasure to meet you I'm sure."

It was not that she was seeking to be approached, but people had a tendency to want to speak with her. Some unaware faculty she possessed perhaps. And she was more than used to men at cantinas flirting with her, however usually only for a short time, until they realised that her cold demeanour was not an act they could persuade her to drop. This man's intentions seemed rather frank, but she was off duty, and she might as well have some fun.

"So Norm, are you enjoying yourself tonight?"

 

[Saint]

"Might need another one of -these- t'really git it goin' t'nite," Norm said as he eyed his Tatooine Sunrise, lifting the glass a little and revealing that it was only half full... or half empty, depending on your outlook. Glancing over his shoulder towards where the Twi'lek officer had disappeared to, he added, "Can't really let loose an' relax when you've got flag-pukes waltzing in, barking everyone to attention for their own ego an' amusement. S'why I don't usually spen' much time in these Imperial taverns."

He shook his head lightly as he made to take a sip from his drink, then thought better of it, lowering the glass slightly as he inquired, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, "You want anything? Kin'a rude t'let me drink alone like this. I'ss on me." He quirked a humored, expectant look as he awaited a response, his own tone playfully accusing. Gaze drifting over her features... or at least as much of them as he could make out from under that hood, the Sergeant noted to himself that her lips appeared to be extremely kissable.

Heh, good thing she wasn't one of those mind-reading Sith gods, or at least, that's how it seemed they liked to consider themselves. Gods among insects. Saint hadn't really had too much operational experience with them yet, but what he'd had so far hadn't left the most pleasant taste in his mouth. He was an Imperial through and through, but these Sith... Meh, he'd yet to fully make his mind up on them yet. Empire First.

 

[Miranda]

Rumour and word-of-mouth were even stronger forces on Bastion than anywhere else in the Empire, but Bastion was not without a more organised media than that. There were criers, most yelling the semi-official line of one or other of the city's quarters. A few news-recordings and holo-periodicals were available, glimmering on screens, saturated electronic displays that were constantly recycled across the Imperial streets.
Most were regular, available always when writers and journalists could be bothered or find the copious resources available under the government and militia regulations.
Much of the media however was contained by only slight provocation, fuelling Sith and Imperial propaganda, mere scandal-mongering at times, and Najira found it all to be wholly depressingly parochial.
The intelligence operative however had made it her personal habit to always know what was going on. Hearsay or fact. To know everybody. Fabricated or real.
And therein lay her current issue, that for all the information that she had at her disposal, the man across from her now - Norm - as he had called himself, had not registered at all within the database of her memory or recognition. He certainly piqued her curiosity.
"Sure, I'll have a spice-wine."

On absorbing every word he had just spoken, the lieutenant (though she had never really held much appreciation of ranks and titles and rather thought them tiresome) nodded in appreciation of this new character that had approached and joined her. She smoked her cigarillo and relaxed further into her chair.

"You are a soldier though, are you not? Here I thought most soldiers of the Empire just loved hanging out in these little dens."

The Mirialan woman offered her gentleman companion another wry smile.

"I admit I prefer not to associate with troopers and mercs...but the information one can overhear in taverns like this is simply priceless."

 

[Saint]

Norm didn't waste a moment, flagging down a decently-attractive human waitress. Holding up a finger still as he spoke to her, he ordered, "Spice-wine for th' lady please. Tall glass." Glancing down at his own mostly-empty drink, he added, "An' I'll hav' another Tatooine Sunrise. Thanks." The Stormtrooper Sergeant was quick to return his attention back to the attractive woman before him as he took a drag from off her cigarillo, relaxing back further into her chair. That was a good sign. At least she wasn't antsy and tense, waiting for his quick departure. Heh.

Regarding her remark about him being a Soldier of the Empire and dens like this, he replied as he looked at her over the top of his drink which he swirled about lightly in one hand, "Certainly we like t'be around our comrades an' such Najira, but it -is- nice t'be away from the flag pole when lettin' yer hair down so to speak." Giving her a quick wink, he down the last of his glass as he threw it back hard before the waitress could return with his new one. Krath, did this stuff have a certain burn to it as it went down. Felt good though. Real good.

Saint quirked humorously at her comment about not associating with troopers and mercs. On some small level, he did take a bit of offense to it, but it also certainly wasn't without some understanding of where she was coming from. Those within the Combat Arms fields of the Empire were mostly male, and at that, very crude, vulgar, entirely uncivilized, and just all around ignorant brutes. Mostly. There were exceptions to that generalization of course, but then again, some of those perceived exceptions were only guys who knew when it wasn't appropriate to openly portray such attributes.

It certainly didn't take a genius to figure out that she was some kind of Intelligence officer. Be that an analyst or someone in the Humanoid Intelligence specialty wasn't exactly clear, though Norm was leaning more along the lines of Humanoid Intelligence as it was clear she was putting aside her personal preference and comfort to collect such information. He'd dealt with an intelligence officers before. Having his Urban specialization, his Commando unit had interacted and received briefings from them before.

They certainly did think of themselves as 'better' than everyone else, and this woman certainly seemed no different. What with her comment about not associating with troopers and mercs whom she probably considered as ignorant meatshields anyway. She was throwing off conflicting signals though, what with her relaxed posture now, allowing him to buy her a drink, and dragging comfortably on her cigarillo. Maybe they weren't conflicting, but more of a telling that she was at least open to him, if only in some part and for whatever reason.

Norman decided that he ought not waste such an opportunity. Instead of questioning her thought process about him and his kind (troopers and mercs), the Stormtrooper Sergeant decided to take a different route. Quirking an inquisitive eyebrow as he glanced about the room, he asked of her, "Really eh? What sort of information do you typically lis'en for?" Holding up his hands defensively as he turned his gaze back to her, he quirked a crooked smile as he proclaimed, "Now I'm not tryin' t'ask any specifics or nothin' Top Secret or whatever... Jus' curious as to th' type of information tha' strikes yer fancy when it comes to a place like this. Heh."

With that said, the semi-shapely waitress approached the table with drinks in hand. "Spice-wine for th' lady," she began, setting Najira's tall yet slim glass down atop the table before her before turning towards Norm and continuing, "And a Tatooine Sunrise for th' gen'leman." Saint paid th' tab right then and there, giving the waitress a friendly tip that wouldn't be enough to flaunt any type of wealth, nor show him a cheap or even standard tipper. "Thank-you Sir," she added before turning go away. Now wasn't exactly the time to make a smart-ass correction about how he wasn't a Sir or a Gentleman, but rather a Sergeant who worked for a living. Heh.

Apparently she was too busy at the moment to ask them if they wanted any food. That was likely for the better as Saint didn't want to push such a commitment on the lady before him anyway. She'd agreed to a drink. Not to a lengthy dinner. Slipping a hand about his new glass, his fingers played lightly across the side as he refrained from downing any just yet. Didn't want her to think that he was an alcoholic. Heh. He'd likely match her sip for sip on this one, though not exactly at the same time. That'd be a little -too- obvious.

 

[Lavi]

His mind felt fried, having gone through simulation after simulation all day long, just to keep his Sith superior happy. Even then, he made it out of the sim before his wingmates managed, leaving him to head off and unwind alone for a while. Bernogne Wael took a stop at the base's tavern, pausing only momentarily to recognize the admirals conversing at the door (he didn't know that one of them received a demotion yet) before entering.

"The usual," Bernogne told the bartender as he sat down.

Even in fatigues, his clothing clearly labeled him as part of the 181st Fighter Wing, the Empire's most elite TIE unit. Bernogne looked around at the patrons as he waited for his drink. Things have changed over the years. The atmosphere felt so much more tense since Darth Aevum took over, and then Judicar. There was something about the new Sith Emperor was chilling, but the pilot didn't want to think about it. The entire week had been rough and Bernogne just wanted to forget it all for a minute.

 

[Miranda]

The Imperial agent had watched with slight amusement as her little quip had registered with her new acquaintance, of course she hadn't actually intended insult or injury by remarking about whom she preferred to liase with after working hours. In fact, most of the time she did find herself consorting with the various walks of life on Bastion. She had not become a lieutenant in the Imperial Intelligence Agency by secluding herself from everyone, and furthermore, everyone was her mandate. She had to know people, no matter their station in life, otherwise she wasn't doing her job properly.

The jesting remark however had seemed to chip the man's ego, even just slightly. And while she was generally a taciturn and stoic woman, behind the shroud was just another hardworking soldier who had gained an advantage in espionage rather than open mercenary affairs.

Najira took a small sip from the spice-wine that had been purchased for her and kept her attention on the sergeant newcomer. "Oh you know, this and that...", she waved a dismissive hand but then continued, "tales from the latest missions, various deployments, whisperings of insurgence, and the like...what about you? Anything interesting you'd like to share with me? I'm off duty so if you'd prefer we can keep it off the record." She would have winked at him if he could have seen her eyes under her hood, but instead there was just a stolid face met with the curling whisps of grey cigarillo smoke. The truth was, even after she had clocked off for the evening, she was never really off duty. Agents had to keep their ears to the floor 24/7. That was their life. But she felt a certain familiarity with this man, something she had very rarely experienced in all her years of working for the Empire. But she knew she had to remain guarded, at least until she could fully gauge his intentions.

 

[Saint]

Shaking his head lightly, Norman responded, "Not really. Not much I can talk about anyway." He glanced over his shoulder at the table he had left only moments ago, noting the lack of his team-leaders there. Good. They listened and moved along, hopefully making a friend. Turning his attention back to Najira, he went on, "I mean, I hav' things I'd like t'share with ya... but I'm doubtful you're intrist'd jus' yet. Gotta warm it up b'fore ya up an' take-off, y'know?"

Saint went ahead and took a drink from his new glass, deciding against the whole matching drink for drink thing... or at least, from letting her start it. Perhaps it was the drink talking already. His comment a moment ago could be perceived as a little more than forward. The Tatooine Sunrise wasn't a drink for those who couldn't handle their booze. Norm could handle his booze, but he most certainly wasn't immune to its effects.

With a vague, waving gesture about the room, the Sergeant inquired, "So how of'en do y'come to a place like this anyway; an' associate with us lower-caste riff-raff?" He quirked a humored look as he raised an eyebrow at her, drink held loosely in one hand as he brought it back around before him, taking yet another sip as he nursed it down slowly. Saint kept his gaze focused solely on the woman now as he awaited a response, ignoring the rest of the room.

 

[Miranda]

"Smart man", Najira returned as she took a drag on her smoke and sipped the bittersweet spice-wine, there was something delicate about her disposition, but this was merely a ruse for the highly trained specialist that she really was.
Surrounded as she had been for weeks by a cloud of rumours and hints like insistent midges, Najira had learnt at least a little about most of the new troops and their affecting recounts. All the weird little men-at-arms idiosyncrasies clamped together in unhealthy congregration, inspiring eachother's egos and manoeuvring for an array of assignments and pursuits, for the Empire.
But somehow the most important, the most striking or unbelievable or appalling information, she had missed. Had there really been insurgent cells on Er'Kit? Had rebellious waves mounted the cities of Axxila and Corsin? Or was it just hearsay? Najira could not be sure. She had felt ever more removed from the Empire's operations over the last few months, and so she had taken to spending as much time as she could in the mercenary taverns, to find out as much as possible from their accounts.

"If you had have asked me that question a few cycles ago, I would have told you never. But I admit I have been frequenting this place more and more the past few months, I suppose it has become a little habit of mine now, really."

She took another long sip of the wine and stubbed her cigarillo out in the ashtray.

"I'm a soldier just like you Norm, no sense in caste as far as I'm concerned, we just operate in different fields. I was merely speaking in jest before, my apologies if you think me to be some high-brow bitch. A lot of my immediate colleagues tend to put on such a front, I'm a refugee though, by heritage, so there's no predisposition for me to act as such. Unless of course I'm on assignment."

She offered a rather sardonic smile at that. There was a rising tension within her, she hated what the Empire had become, and in her own covert way she was slowly working her way towards rectifying the problem. She just wasn't entirely sure how she would execute such a brazen plan. She would need others, many others. And she would need to bide her time very carefully.

 

[Saint]

FINALLY!! It seemed his little jab had worked. Saint wasn't much of one for trying to manipulate people, but tonite, he just wanted to sit back, relax, and have a good time. It seemed as if Najira was still wanting to conduct business though, and her little remark about associating with mercs and Soldiers had stirred up a small amount of irritation within him, but he wasn't about to give up just like that. Her apology was well received by the Trooper, perking his interest even more now as he sat his drink down upon the table, unlikely to touch it again for some time.

While Norm wasn't desiring to talk business, he was still interested in the attractive woman before him and wanted to show such. While a number of men would've taken the opportunity to brag and boast about their recent expeditions, expounding on them as they saw fit so as to make themselves seem all the more heroic, Saint took a different route. He wasn't the type to really blow his own horn. If there was any interest, it should be in him, and not his accomplishments.

Giving a light, dismissive wave of his hand, Norman replied, "No apology necessary. I un'erstand th' idea of putting up a front while pullin' a job." Adjusting his posture in his chair, he assumed a more relaxed position as he offered her a simple smile, "T'nite though, I'm not on... assignment. T'nite, I'm jus' lookin' to relax a bit an' hav' a good time." Glancing off to the side, he took a slow, deep breath, letting it out as he quirked his lips.

Gesturing vaguely to the side with two lazy fingers, Saint turned his attenion back to Najira as he inquired, "So what sort'a stuff hav' you been findin' out by hangin' aroun' places like this so much of late eh? It's a... kind of an interestin' change of habits if you ask me." While Saint wasn't any type of Intelligence Specialist, he did realize that for an attractive woman like this to start hanging around places like this one, there -had- to be a legitimate reason behind it.

Most good-looking, intelligent, shapely women didn't just start hanging out in thug bars like this one for no real reason whatsoever. Imperial or not. It didn't take a... what were those people called?... psychist... psycho... cyclist... PSYCHOLOGIST!!! That's the word!! It didn't take a psychologist to figure -that- out. Now that she had seemed to lower her defenses a bit, Norm glanced off to the side, catching a look at the waitress and inquired of the lady, "Would you care t'share a meal t'gether?" He hoped that she would say yes.

 

[Miranda]

Najira La'Ashaad was not a foolish woman by any means at all. In fact the Imperial Intelligence Agency had requested her for training immediately after her graduation from the Academy, which was a rare occurrence, because usually graduates had to go through rigorous and probing interviews, succumb to psychological tests, sit various aptitude exams and prove their worth to the agency before being allowed to even enter their presence. But Najira had always worked extremely hard and had taken life far too seriously. It was about time she relaxed a little and enjoyed herself. The merc taverns on Bastion were absolutely the places in which to seek some fun. And she knew what Norm was up to, she'd been hit-on by numerous troopers and soldiers and all military ranks in her frequenting of these bars over the course of the past few months.
The problem wasn't that she didn't like the idea, she was sentient after all and had the same desires as any grown woman, but her profession had always had to come first. She couldn't afford to trust people too much. And letting a man into her life intimately, even for the briefest of affairs, was dangerous ground to be treading as an intelligence operative.
Subterfuge and secrecy were an agent's best, and often only weapons. If she revealed herself to a stranger to satiate her humanoid desires, then she exposed herself too much and made her job all the more difficult.

"Actually, I'm quite famished...do they have a good menu here? Can't say I've ever tried the food. The wine does well enough." She offered a friendly laugh then, she was slowly opening up, but carefully.

"Well, I'm not on assignment either really, but I've been trained to always keep my eyes and ears open for information. You can probably understand that. It exhausts me somedays, but it's the life I lead I suppose."

The Mirialan took another slow sip of her wine, it warmed her, she felt a little more comforted in this space, and the man across from her did not seem to have any dubious or dangerous intentions towards her. He obviously just wanted some female company and a gentle flirtation after a hard day of work.

"Hmmm...I've been hearing all sorts of things since I've been coming here. And at the other taverns too around this district."

She leant in a little bit and lowered her voice.

"Have you been hearing about the uprisings on some of the Imperial fringe worlds? It's a little disturbing to be honest. Of course, nothing is fact, it's all rumours at this stage. But it has got me wondering..."

 

[Allu'rah Danan]

At length, the Twi'lek commander did return through the bar door as the Admiral and his guards sped off. Her face was utterly bloodless and her knees were like jelly. She managed to make it to a bar stool before they gave out, and her entire figure seemed to sag. A few of the soldiers on either side of her shied away slightly, and eventually moved to other tables as casually as they could. As if her spirit hadn't been crushed enough, just what she needed now was for the other patrons to start treating her like a plague-bearer. Great. That was just dandy.

"Monty," Kiada croaked out in a feeble voice that was lost in the clamor of the bar. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time with more confidence. "Hey Monty," she said to the barkeep. Even he only came over reluctantly. "Get me a shot of fire whiskey? Need to try and thaw my blood a little." He nodded and passed her the tiny glass, which she emptied immediately. The burn of the liquor made Kiada burst into a coughing fit, but it did help put some colour back into her face and a healthy purplish flush into her cheeks.

"Thanks Monty, you're a good man," Kiada said as she passed back the shot glass. "Just one final trouble, then I'll leave ya be. Tall glass of water? Ah thank you kindly sir. Mighty grateful, I am." She slid him enough credits to cover her remaining tab as well as leave a generous tip. Taking a good gulp from her mug and assuaging her burning throat, the commander pardoned herself from the bar and moved to one of the empty tables on the fringes of the room. She didn't want to hamper the flow of alcohol by her mere presence.

Kiada passed the hooded Mirialan and her current company en route to the vacant area, but paid them little mind. She just needed a moment to gather her wits before heading back to base. And when she did, she was taking every Navy officer in the bar with her. She knew that the Admiral had no time for joking around. Lose one more soldier to the Sith, and she'd be turned over for their amusement as well. And if she survived that... The thought made her shudder. In any case, if her life wasn't directly tied to those of her troops before, it certainly was now.

 

[Saint]

Catching the waitress' attention, Saint waved her over to their table. Flipping his hand about as he held up only two fingers, he requested, "Could we git a coupla menus 'ere please?" Clicking his tongue just inside his cheek, he gave her a light wink as he added, "Thank-ya," and with that, turned his full attention back to the attractive lady before him. It said something that she was willing to share a meal with him. A good sign, to be sure. She even laughed a little just now. A -very- good sign.

Hopefully it wasn't all still just a front. Having never met her before, Saint had no -real- idea regarding just how good of an actress she was, or how well she played her role as Intelligence Operative. All this could still be just a different ploy to get him to open up and share information that he wasn't allowed to. When she leaned forward a bit to inquire about uprisings on other worlds, Norm had to admit that his alarm went off inside his head. Maybe she -was- still playing the game.

*mental sigh*

He hoped that wasn't the case. Likely, he hoped, this was just a natural progression of the topic they had already been discussing. Honestly though, it was his own fault for carrying it out further, but then again, how else was he suppose to show genuine interest? It was a catch twenty-two. Shaking his head lightly, he replied, "I haven't really been payin' attention t'much of the chit-chat an' such around th' taverns."

Reaching for his drink once again, he swirled the contents of his glass gently as he observed them, going on, "Truth be told, my squad an' I hav' been too damn busy t'really hav' much time to ourselves like tha'." Looking over towards the waitress who was just now bringing them their menus, he added, "Most down time we hav' is durin' th' long space flights, an' we usually spend tha' keepin' up with physical fitness, target practice, refresher courses, an' ruthless games of Sabacc."

Taking a small sip from his glass, he quirked a humored grin at that last remark of his. He and his team leaders had had some -epic- games of Sabacc over the last couple of years. EPIC!! He thanked the waitress as he picked up his menu she'd just delivered, and began to look inside. "Overall though, I'd say it's high-time you had yourself a vacation." Glancing over the top of the menu briefly, he added, "Go ice-climbing on Ilum.. or backpackin' across Naboo... Maybe spend a coupla weeks lounging about lazily atop a yacht on Manaan."

His gaze rested on her for a few moments too long. All those ideas sounded like fun. Fun that he would -certainly- enjoy spending with her as well. Okay, at least in his mind. Truth was, he didn't really know her well enough just yet to commit to such endeavors. Pushing the thoughts from his mind as he shook his head a bit, Norm tried to recover by inquiring, "What has it got you wonderin' Najira?" He hoped that she didn't catch him gawking at her just now. Perhaps his quick inquiry as to her thoughts would help cover it up. Perhaps.