Tatooine Sunset

[Solaris]

Dred sat atop his unique white-furred, blue-horned sapient bantha outside the Mos Espa space-port. He was dressed in a black tunic and trousers with a brown shirt and black leather-and-armorweave boots, rather unusual clothing for the red-skinned mercenary; he was typically in an outfit that combined Tusken wrappings with Mandalorian armor. Dred's clothes were actually rather nice, as he had fallen into a not-inconsequential amount of money recently and was able to buy not only a ship but also several of the niceties he had done without for most of his life. Among those were garments he could wear in social settings where it was rude to openly prepare for being shot at.

Rhallaemnes, the bantha, was of course in his normal outfit. Fur was only murder if removed from the original owner.

"Do you see her?" Dred asked, scanning the crowd moving out of the port. A passenger liner had just arrived, discharging a little under a hundred sentients of every shape and size. Some, he could tell, were tourists - either historical, religious, or adventure - but the majority were more. . . his sort. Mercenaries, criminals, that sort of people. The scum that existed in nearly any society and had taken over the whole pot on Tatooine.

::She is a Human, Dred,:: Rhallaemnes responded, the telepathic voice carrying the gestalt of dry sarcasm. ::Though I hesitate to sound bigoted, they all look the same to me.::

Dred chuckled, patting the bantha on the shoulder. "Do not be worrying, my friend. Your secret, it is safe with me."

 

[Nevermore]

Among the menagerie of nameless faces and automatons moving as one great machine, one individual stood out. Her blazing red hair pronouncing her presence among the monotonous masses, she moved with an elegance that betrayed her presence. Clad in her favorite lace-back sleeveless tunic and matching black leggings, the smooth features of her face were drawn into an expression attesting her confusion. Her name was Julara DeRain, and her presence here was for the sake of an as-of-yet unidentified date. As precarious as the situation seemed, Julara was relatively ardent about it.

I was told to wait here, she thought to herself. Mismatched eyes oscillated, observing her surroundings to locate a place to to wait for her date. Her eyes surceased their movement, catching sight of an uninhabited bench. Intricately maneuvering the slowly dwindling crowd of civilians, the Initiative member meandered her way to the public furniture. She promptly took a seat, smoothing the wrinkles folding in her leggings.

I shouldn't be too difficult to find, I hope, Julara thought to herself.

She didn't realize just how much of a sore thumb she was.

 

[Solaris]

"She's a redhead," Dred said, recalling the profile information and picture he'd seen.

::I am color-blind, Dred.:: Rhallaemnes yawned. ::You bipeds make mating so compl-::

"-No, she's right there," Dred said, jumping down from the bantha's back, his heart pounding in excitement and anxiety. "I will see you later, my friend!" he said as he gave the shaggy beast a fond pat on the shoulder.

The bantha tossed his head, giving a chortling, chuffing sound from deep in his throat. ::Try not to embarrass yourself too badly,:: he sent with amusement and affection. Rhallaemnes was rather familiar with Dred's past . . . performance with the fair sex.

Dred wiped his hands off on his trousers nervously, then stuck them in the pockets of his knee-length dark brown duster. His hands were clawed, with bone spurs on most of the knuckles; they tended to be off-putting. He took a deep breath, centering himself and letting that irrational anxiety pass while he walked over to the bench the redheaded woman. What was the worst that could happen? She tried to kill him?

Dred grinned, showing his carnivorous fangs while he loomed large over the relatively petite human. Nature had not outfitted him for a gentle aspect; he was a predator by nature, if not by temperament, and more than any animalistic creature like a Togorian or Shistavanen he looked it. "Hey," he said, his low tenor-high baritone voice at odds with his almost monstrous appearance. "Julara, right? I'm Dred."

 

[Nevermore]

Julara's attention was confiscated as Dred approached, giving her a hasty greeting and introduction. A smile creased her lips, not once perturbed at the man's appearance. From first impressions, the Sith certainly seemed friendly and sociable enough. Julara had a lingering feeling she would have a spectacular time, just like she had earlier. The woman, ever caught up in the beliefs of old, extended her hand up towards Dred. It was a gesture for him to assist her in standing, and she hoped he would understand and respect it.

"I am indeed Julara," she said. Her delicate hand remained suspended in the air, awaiting to be grasped by Dred.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Julara continued. She observed that he was significantly larger than she was, but nothing about him irked her. She didn't know, nor did she particularly care to know, his species. What mattered most to the Initiative member was personality, despite any physical differences or flaws someone seemed to have. She would have to let the night run its course, and see how she felt by the end of it all.

"Where are we headed?"

 

[Solaris]

Dred took her hand in his and helped her up, thinking how uniquely an outlander thing that was. Tusken women, like Tusken men, would refuse all but the most necessary of aid - especially in front of someone unfamiliar to them. In the Dune Sea, to expose weakness was to invite scorn, shunning, or even assault. Here in civilization, at least outside the assorted toughs and gangers Dred commonly found himself, it seemed almost necessary to expose weakness in order to get along with others.

Still, he had to admit he could see the appeal in the woman letting the man think he was necessary as a source of strength and protection. "The pleasure's mine, Julara."

"Well," Dred said, looking down at her in between the occasional glance around - he had the sort of professional paranoia that any soldier acquired after enough years in the game, "while Tatooine has its appeals, many are acquired tastes. Fortunately, the place I have in mind is not one such."

::It's cute when you try to act sophisticated.::

::Quiet, you.:: Dred smiled at Julara during the speed-of-thought telepathic banter. He could tell she was at least positive on the prospects of the date, not having an overtly negative reaction to him. So far so good - or his low-grade empathic talents were on the fritz again. "I am knowing of a place not too far from here, a, uh, a cantina of sorts run by a . . . well, no-one is quite sure what Ki'Ki is, but his cooking is superb and he has a talent for hiring bands of no small skill." He frowned as a thought occurred to him. A lot of females, especially civilians, could be rather squeamish about certain things. "You would not be put-off by someone who looks like a two-meter arachnid, would you?" he asked almost hesitantly.

 

[Nevermore]

Julara couldn't withhold the giggle rising in her lungs. It slipped though her lips mellifluously, the woman bringing a hand to her lips in an ineffective attempt to stifle it.

"No, not at all," she affirmed as her giggle fit surceased. "It sounds rather lovely, actually." Julara's mismatched blue-and-green-eyes scanned her surroundings. She hadn't seen how Char had arrived, or if their destination was very far away at all.

"How will we be getting there, or is it close by?" she asked, her pearly teeth peeking out from her lips parted in a pleasant smile.

"I only ask because I find it somewhat unlikely that such a nice place would be in any of the major cities," she finished. Julara was relatively familiar with the planet of Tatooine, though not as familiar as most. She knew the kinds of people who inhabited the planet, and the illicit activities that those people engaged in. Thus most of the cantinas were as equally unsavory, but given Dred's elaboration this one sounded different. Julara was rather eager to see it.

 

[Solaris]

Dred smiled at her giggle, rather charmed by the feminine gesture and relieved that she found the idea laughable.

"'Unlikely'," Dred said, "is not the same as 'impossible' - not if you are knowing where to look." He was a tracker; knowing where to look was what he did for a living. The big alien shrugged and waved dismissively. "Besides, it's not like all of Tatooine is criminal and mercenary. That's just the parts off-worlders see, because that's just the parts off-worlders are wanting to see."

Dred turned and motioned for the shaggy white bantha to approach. "This is my friend, Rhallaemnes. He is much smarter than he looks, and few pickpockets bother us while he carries us."

The blue-horned bantha made a show of bowing in the manner of show horses while Dred did a quick walk-around of the combination harness and saddle the bantha wore on his back. ::It is a pleasure to meet the woman gracious and charitable enough to gift her time to this oafish creature I find myself saddled with,:: Rhallaemnes sent, his telepathic 'voice' carrying a facetious, teasing tone - at least with what he said about Dred. His pleasure at meeting Julara was somewhat more genuine.

::Speaking of saddles,:: the bantha said privately, ::Dred re-rigged this one to make it easier for you to climb up. It's interesting the lengths he'll go to in order to avoid using vehicles. Let him help you up, he will like that.::