A Night at the Crystal Palace

[Nephill Kilner]

A Night at the Crystal Palace
Selab, in the Hapes Cluster - Late Afternoon, in the hours before Twilight

Nephill Kilner hadn't felt these feelings since boyhood.

He had killed hundreds of men already at the mere age of 23, too many of them with his bare hands. He had killed Jedi and Mando'ade alike, and taken down some of the galaxy's most hardened undesirables as a bounty hunter. The Mandalorian had completed some of the galaxy's most impossible missions as a mercenary.

But nothing compared to the feeling a man experienced, anxiously waiting, for a first date.

Nephill had been on Selab after successfully completing a joint mission with the Hapans to capture an aruetii, a traitor, that Nephill had chased all the way from Mandalorian Space. Neph was a Mandalorian Protector, a member of an elite group of Mando'ade that protected local Mandalorian interests. He had been enjoying a drink with his Hapan friends in a local bar when his eyes had rested on a bounty hunter, drinking alone at the bar.

Although hardly attempting to look nice, with scarred armor and hair up, Nephill could identify a beauty like her from a mile away. Quickly leaving the Hapans to their drinks he had approached. Without even offering his name, the equally battered Mando, clad in beskar'gam and fresh from the mission, had asked her out on a date. More surprising to him then his own impulsiveness was her yes. With that, the two had exchanged contact information, and Nephill had fled out the door before he could embarrass himself.

They had only one conversation since then, with Nephill texting her comm number with the location and reservation time, and her confirmation. And now he had waited.

It was 6:27 p.m., and the light was beginning to fade on the world of Selab. Nephill had secured a last minute reservation at the sought after restaurant Crystal Palace, through help of his new Hapan friends. The restaurant was one of many business occupying a towering spire, with the restaurant occupying the top floor several hundred feet off the ground.

The spire overlooked a beautiful crystal garden, which was comprised of various masterfully constructed crystal structures and statues, and interspersed with the mysterious Trees of Wisdom growing in between the mineral formations. The Trees were rumored to give the gift of increased intelligence to those who ate them, and many of the wealthy bought into this myth, funding a small niche market for the trees on the planet. Nephill was doubtful about the validity of such claims by the merchants, but then again he had seen many strange things in his travels. Perhaps he would try one for himself.

He had told Katarina to meet him at 6:30. Three minutes. He tapped his fingers nervously on the glass tabletop. A candle flickered romantically in the falling sunlight, and a bouquet of gorgeous flowers was draped on the table over the utensils. His first gift to her, on top of dinner.

The Mandalorian did not really understand what was taking hold of him. For several years, he had scoured the bowels of the galaxy, meeting and bedding women like it was nothing. And they were all pretty. Albeit only looking for money and a handsome face for the night. But then again, he was only looking for a pretty face that could get him through a night that would otherwise be full of painful, drunken reminiscence.

Times were different now. Life was different. He twisted his head and thought as he glanced down at a set of crystal columns far below. Heights did not frighten him in the slightest, as he often fought as a jet trooper, defying gravity to gain an edge on his enemies. The light reflected and scattered beautifully. Perhaps he would purchase a piece of crystal furniture before he left.

Nephill had reformed. Gone were the drunken nights (or at least the worst of them), the nights of faked passion. Of working for slime bags and killing for credits. Now he lived for a higher purpose. His actions now directly improved the lives of his people. And the happiness that gave him was irreplaceable.

But he was lonely. He had no desire for a fast girl now. He wanted a wife. A family. Or at least a steady girlfriend. He had yet to find one, as too often the pretty girls were too weak for him to feel comfortable around, or an equal to him in ability or achievement was too ugly. Or things didn't work out. Or maybe he wasn't cute enough. His battle worn face and sometimes awkward social interactions borne of spending years in trenches with soldiers sometimes wasn't enough for a fem who preferred a pretty boy doctor or something.

And there was something about her. He couldn't place his finger on it. It went beyond the fact she was a bounty hunter herself, and thus someone he could respect. And so pretty. That kind of beauty was rare even among the gorgeous and dangerous Hapan women he had just been acquainting himself with. There was something else.

Tonight, he was determined to use all of his abilities to have a successful date. He needed this. And it showed. The Crystal Palace was as expensive as it was exclusive, and those that dined around them were all members of the upper class. Nephill had finally taken off his armor in public, something he could not remember the last time doing, and purchased fresh formal wear he had gotten, custom fitted, from a tailor that afternoon. It was a fashionable and expensive suit, and he also wore an expensive gold chrono. His hair glistened from some sort of hair thing he had bought after getting his mess of hair cut. He had bought actual cologne for this, and used it liberally. The smell was soothing and not hard on the senses, so he had felt free to do so. And his breath was minty as he continuously chewed on breath relievers. Nothing was missed.

He felt the most attractive he had felt in years. But he still felt out of his element. Although a handsome man who had plenty of girlfriends as a teenager, the youthfulness many women chased was gone. His expressions were too hard, and his eyes too dead. In smoky bars and clubs, women had flocked to him, sensing the power a battle hardened warrior possessed. But too civilized women, it scared them off. And he could do nothing of the scar that adorned his face.

Perhaps that was why he was nervous. But it seemed...so much more then that. But he had no longer to wait.

His chrono read 6:30. He took a sip of his beverage, a sweet champagne, for courage, only to foul up his breath again and forcing him to pop another mint. And the mints had spoiled the taste. He then watched the entrance that lead from the reception hallway to this dining area, which was lightly lit for atmosphere and surrounded by tall windows that allowed one to admire the garden (Neph had secured a coveted window seat), anxiously. His fingers continued to dance.

Time seemed to slow.

 

[Solaris]

"Damn," Katarina cursed under her breath as she minced along in those accursed heels. "Damn, damn, damn!" She was late!

In her defense, she was just coming back from a high-stakes operation behind enemy lines to rescue a number of Jedi and Alliance personnel taken prisoner in the Battle of Boonta. She'd decided this date was going to go quite pleasantly; Katarina felt like celebrating. Of course, her hyperdrive had to malfunction and she had to pop into the system an hour and a half behind schedule. She'd made up for it some by getting cleaned up, dressed and doing her hair and make-up in the cockpit, letting Quest take over flight duties, but the cockpit of a Revan-class fighter disguised as a J-12 Aethersprite was hardly the place to be doing that sort of thing. Still, she thought she did a halfway decent job for the time crunch she had.

Katarina smiled ruefully. Just because she planned operations in her professional life on a down-to-the-second timeframe didn't mean she ought to do the same with her personal life.

Kat slowed down as she approached the restaurant, forcing herself to take her time and walk more sedately. The last thing she wanted to do now was break one of these ridiculous heels when she was almost in sight of her date. She was wearing a form-fitting black evening gown with a low neckline, showing off her curvature without going overboard about it, and a pair of black high heels she'd regretted buying the instant she tried walking more than a few feet with them. Katarina was a fighter, not a runway model; she did not take naturally to moving with four-inch spikes on her feet. Still, she had to admit that the heels did impressive things to her backside and made her legs look great. She'd taken it easy with the make-up, and opted for wearing her hair loose rather than trying to do something with it. It was too short to do much anything with, anyhow; shorter hair was harder to grab in a fight, even if it didn't look so girly or attractive as some of the manes she saw on the women in the civilian world. Katarina had even put on perfume, a delicate and sweet scent that had set the dark voice in the back of her mind to grumbling. She glanced at the thin disc adhered to her left wrist and pursed her lips in disappointment. Three minutes late on entering the restaurant.

Ah, hell, what did he have to complain about? At least she didn't look like a Hutt or play mind games.

Katarina quickly scanned the room, almost instantly picking out the guy watching the entrance. Her heart skipped a beat; he was handsome. Katarina smiled at him, then looked away shyly before letting the Sephi maitre de lead her up to Neph's table. Now, if only he turned out to be a decent guy. . .

"I 'ope I'm not too late," she said with an apologetic smile. "'Yperspace was murder. Nepheell Keelner, no?"

 

[Nephill Kilner]

His gaze remained fixated on the doorway.

And stayed.

Doubts began to creep in his head as the chrono reached 6:33.

Then, his heart stopped.

Katarina entered, looking completely breathtaking. Although he personally preferred long hair, Katarina was able to sport her short hair quite well. Her dress clung to her body like a second skin, and he admired her form as tingles ran through his body. Especially when his eyes were drawn to the cleavage revealed by her dress's low neckline. Then his eyes kept moving down. Curves for years. Those heels did wonders for her body, and although she seemed a bit uncomfortable walking into them, Nephill could still not move his eyes from her, drinking her in as she approached. His gaze is not one of lust, merely shock and admiration, like how one would look if peering upon a goddess who had beams of light streaming from her divine body.

He was barely able to note the way she took a look at him and then looked down with a tiny grin. So. He didn't look that bad after all.

The Mandalorian stood and quickly pulled out her chair moments before she arrived. That done, he took a position in front of the chair and offered his hand for her to take. Once she did, he leaned over and planted a kiss. "I am not lying when I say you are easily the most beautiful woman in the galaxy I have laid eyes on," he said with his most charming smile. One of the only "perfect" features that he had, was a set of white straight teeth that could model in dentistry ads. "I barely noticed the time. Please, I have a gift." With that, he twisted and presented the bouquet of flowers, consisting of the planet's best. Cost him no small fortune too. In the middle was a crystal flower, artistically crafted. It gleamed, and the artisanship was without flaw; it appeared as alive as the other beautiful flowers around it.

Once the flowers were in her hands, he moved away and to the back of the chair, waiting for her to sit down comfortably before pushing it in gently. He then moved around the table and took his seat. Taking a sip from the glass of water next to his champagne to wash out the mint taste, he gave her another one of his smiles, staring into her eyes with his dark, mesmerizing pupils.

"I hope you those are to your liking, sweetheart...."

A smartly dressed waiter arrived, temporarily ending any moment that might have existed. He gave his name, something common and easily forgotten. "I hope you enjoy your stay here at the Crystal Palace. For the lady, what can I get you to drink?" he asked, handing out two thick menus written in flowing calligraphy and with illustrations. Once she ordered, he said "I will be right back with that in a few minutes. Please look over your menus; I will take your dinner order then." He smartly about-faces and heads off to the back to fetch the drink. The menu is large and encompasses the best cuisine the Hapans can offer, and a few other popular dishes from other corners of the galaxy. The food is presented in a full course meal format, and the prices border on exorbitant.

 

[Solaris]

"Please, call me Katarina," she said, blushing at the attention and the obvious effort Nephill had put into impressing her. She hadn't often considered herself the sort of person anyone went out of their way to impress, at least not socially. She couldn't decide if he was simply trying too hard or if he was overcompensating for a distinct lack of any admirable qualities, but tentatively went with the more charitable explanation that he was nervous and trying too hard. Well, there was a solution to that problem. "May I call you Nepheell?"

"Dzey're wonderful," she said with a smile as she inhaled the scent of the bouquet, then delicately placed them on the table. Katarina then settled down into the chair Neph had pulled out for her, smoothing her skirt beneath her as she sat and then crossed her legs modestly. She accepted the menu with a quiet thanks and skimmed it over. "Dze, um, dze 'eighty-two Sullustan claret, please," she said to the waiter. The prices gave her pause - she hadn't seen food this expensive since before the Purge. "Dzank you, Batu."

At least she remembered what all the forks were for. The fine dining setting was to her advantage, whether he knew it or not; while Katarina was awkward and uncomfortable in most social settings, she was in her element in the more formal environments.

When the waiter was gone, Katarina turned her full attention back to Nephill and smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry about arriveeng late," she said. "I hope you won't theenk too eell of me. So! Tell me of yourself. 'Oo are you, Nepheell Keelner?"

 

[Nephill Kilner]

"Please, call me Nephill. As long as I can call you Katarina," he said, the second part being added on like an afterthought, his smile unwavering.

Tingles ran through his body as she obviously seemed pleased with the bouquet, taking in the smooth, complex scent before carefully placing them under the table. His eyes, without much control from him, flicked over and watched her legs as she sat down and then crossed them. He had to shake himself off from some steamy thoughts before he realized the waiter was back. Hoping he didn't notice, or mind, that he was checking her out a bit, he took a moment to look down at the menu and compose himself. He wasn't thirteen anymore. Time to put the moves on; he had already set it up perfectly.

"The Steak Special with Corellian Mashed Potatoes and an Imperial Salad, Dantooine Dressing. And a refill please," he said, the words flowing effortlessly, as though he often spent time in fancy joints like this one and ordered food that cost enough to buy a full year's rations like it was nothing. Two glasses of this champagne, he reminded himself. If he got too intoxicated, the night would be ruined.

He noted her beverage choice with admiration. She clearly knew what she was doing, which was good. He himself was far from a connoisseur. Not a few months ago, his idea of a good drink was one that was cheap enough to order in bulk. And how powerful it was.

He was looking for a fancy girl. Her unsteadiness on the heels had led him to believe perhaps she was the combat boot type of woman, which Neph was too acquainted with. He wanted to branch out a bit.

He kept his head turned for a few moments after the waiter had turned to take their orders to the kitchen to compose himself. He took a deep breath to compose himself, and relaxed. Unlike her, he was out of his element. He knew how to sweet talk, but it was barroom sweet talk. But, he was one of the best at that. Even half drunk and smelly in his beskar'gam, he always managed to walk out with the prettiest girl in the room on his arm - and her friend on the other. As long as he was comfortable, he knew the right words to pick. Woman had been a game to him for a sizable portion of his life, and learning to talk to him was learning how to play the game. Now he would use that knowledge.

Taking a small sip of his champagne as he listened to her comment, he prepared the perfect response to get the conversation going, and in the direction he wanted.

"Don't even mention it. You're too eye catching for a man to hold a mere three minutes against," he said, eyes twinkling. Just the tiniest uplift in the corners of his lips, to play into a jovial sort of expression. He pretended to ponder the question for a few moments seriously. I'm just a man trying to be the best as what he does. Whether that may be at my employment, to my family life." He delivered the last line as sensually as possible, leaning forward and gazing into her eyes, mouth set in a serious line. He tried to let the moment grow heated, and hoped that she would respond in a way that let the passion hang in the air. His slight movement forward meant a waft of his expensive, husky smelling cologne washed over her just as he finished delivering that line.

He shifted away after letting that moment hang for a few long seconds, picking up his glass and swirling it, leaning back into his seat and letting a slight smile rule his features once again. "But I hate to talk about myself. Especially when there is so much to learn about you, gorgeous. Tell me about yourself. What do you desire from...life?" His eyes never left hers, and he was careful in showing that she had his absolute attention and also read her features at the same time, to better judge her feelings.

 

[Solaris]

"Dze nerf een meent sauce, medium-rare," Katarina said to the waiter, "weedz dze haroun bread and keeweep grass, please."
Her familiarity with gourmet cooking was not feigned.

When the waiter had departed, Katarina looked at Nephill. She hadn't missed the way his eyes wandered, and while at first she had taken it for a compliment he had best not keep it up if he wanted there to be a second date. "I'd love eef you called me Katarina . . . and not 'sweet'eart', or 'gorgeous', or any such nonsense. I am aware of what I look like, Nepheell," she said pleasantly, "but dzere ees more to me dzan my looks. I'm glad dzat you appreciate dze effort I put eento lookeeng pretty for dzees date," she said as she leaned forward, her eyes locked onto his, "but eef you keep up weedz dze charm I might get dze wrong eempression about you, no?"

She smiled to soften the blow, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also not interested in meeting Nephill-the-Playboy. She wanted to meet Nephill the way he was, not the character he played to woo young women with more hormones than brains. Just because she had the appearance of youth didn't mean she had the stupidity of youth. "What I want from life," Katarina continued, "ees to be 'appy. My professional life, eet takes me all over dze galaxy, you see, and dzat doesn't leave me much time for dateeng or dze social life. I am 'appy enough on my own I suppose, but," she looked away and shrugged slowly, doing interesting things to her chest, "I want more. I want . . . someone, you know?" She was a little nervous, even hesitant, to be exposing even this much of herself, but Katarina had to admit it felt good to be honest with someone for a change. The last few years had not been pleasant for the formerly honest and truthful woman.

Besides, it would be hypocritical to ask the same of Nephill and not do it herself. "So ask me anydzeeng, Nepheell, and let us be 'onest weedz each odzer, not seemply tryeeng to conveence dze odzer to jump een bed weedz dzem."

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Neph listened to her choice of food. Medium-rare huh - an adventurer. He liked that along with her other choices.

Her comment slammed into him harder then he let on. Hmm. It was clear this woman was not going to respond to that sort of approach at all; she saw right through it. Then, not after mildly rebuking him, she opened herself up. She had taken a chance to let him know that she was...in effect, lonely. That was something the Mandalorian had a hard time just to admit to himself. In that case...he would do the same. He would speak honestly, and let his real self come out. Just a few years ago, being faced with a woman like this would have caused him to stand right up and walk. But he wasn't that man. He was looking for a keeper, and here was a woman who wanted one too. Nephill would put himself out there, and take that chance that maybe she didn't really like who he really was. But he would respect himself, and she would probably respect him for doing so.

Throughout the whole thing, his smile is only shaken at her first initial words, but he quickly recovers, though his expression is clearly strained. At one point, his gaze wavers and he looks down sucks in air, just a little "pfft" noise. But near the end, his smile is back, except much more warmer and a bit rueful.

He opened his hands, palms up, as a gesture to aid his next words. "I wouldn't describe it as that at all...Katerina. Do you mind if I call you Kat? Or maybe...Rin? I like little nicknames. You can call me Neph...if you want of course," he said, the end words coming out in a little rush. He wanted the whole nickname thing as a genuine base for their possible relationship - not to use as a tool to get her to bat her eyes at him and get warm and mushy. He really did like those nicknames. And when a woman had one for him.

"But anyways, I'm sorry. Let's back up a bit. Tell me about yourself? Where'd you grow up?" he asked, picking up the champagne and draining it, before settling back in his chair to listen to her response. His eyes were firmly meeting her hers, never straying now.

He hoped it was the right question...beings in his line of work tended to ignore their childhoods, as if they had never existed, and had come out the womb fully grown, a hardened killer. Mostly because all of them had painful pasts. Neph wasn't an exception, but years of drinking and trying to suppress all that had taught him the hard way denial was not a solution. Katerina didn't seem like most women, or beings in his line of work, so he assumed she would be willing to discuss it, even if it was a general and not very detailed answer.

If not, he would let her ask the next question, so that way she could guide the conversation to wherever she desired. He was an open man, and not because he had a shortage of secrets; only that he was determined not to mess up again. Tonight would be a good night. He hoped that his efforts to this point would show eh was trying to be sincere the whole time, he had just chosen the wrong approach at first.

 

[Solaris]

"Kat weell do, Neph," Katarina said with a pleased smile. She was decidedly un-fond of pet names and the like, but she could certainly give a little. At least he wasn't trying to call her Kitty or something stupid like that, and he had put a lot of effort into impressing her - even if he'd gone about it the wrong way, that still counted for something. In truth, the moment of honesty was more endearing and attractive to her than most of his efforts at seduction through heavy charm and flashy wealth - though the crystal flower was quite splendid. She was spared immediately having to answer the troublesome question of her background by the waiter's return to fill their wine-glasses and place down a platter of hors d'oeuvres on the table between them.

"I was born on Basteeon," Katarina said when the waiter had left, taking a sip of the wine. This was not her favorite subject, but Katarina was a woman of her word - and she had expected the subject to come up. She'd decided on the truth - from a certain point of view. "I grew up dzere, too. Een truz, I was an Eempeereeal Knight, have been seence I was a leettle geerl, but I was excommuneecated after a meession to Dadzomeer went terreebly wrong. Dzat was, um, about a year before dze Purge, and dze return of dze Seez. I stayed weedz dze Jedee for a while, but dzey were - well, I wasn't about to go to war against dze Empire, you know, even eef dze Seez usurped eet, so I've made my own way in dze galaxy seence dzen." She waved dismissively, knowing such a story strained credulity and not wanting to dwell on it over-long. "I do 'ope you won't 'old my background or my Force-senseeteeveety against me."

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Nephill listened to her life story with interest, although his reaction bordered on incredulous after the "excommunicated from the Imperial Knights" part. He had to work to keep his expression neutral, especially near the end. He had good reason to.

A small storm of emotions roiled through at her words, especially the last ones. She was no bounty hunter - she was an Imperial Knight. And that meant she was Force sensitive. One could hardly blame the Mandalorian for having a negative reaction to the words "Force sensitivity." Since adolescence, he had adopted negatives view of all the Force sensitive groups running around the galaxy. In his experience, whether it be Sith, Jedi, Imperial Knight, member of the Order of LightGrayDarkRain, Force sensitives were around to push other beings around and tote themselves as some sort of superiors to other beings.

He almost moved to take a sip of his empty glass before catching himself - it was a bad habit of his to go to his beverage. Something to do with the fact alcohol usually made a bad situation seem lighter when it really wasn't, and gave him confidence when he needed it.

After a few moments after her words, he came to a conclusion. She was clearly not a bad person, and certainly did not fit his admittedly narrow stereotypes. And she was so pretty...and the fact she had just spoiled her cover because she trusted him spoke volumes. Although he did wonder if the story was exaggerated, looking at his own he could see that too often terrible and crazy lives were the norm.

Yeah, my whole family is dead and I'm the only one left and I recently reformed from a life of running around killing people for money and drinking myself to sleep...

Yup. He wasn't saying that.

The waiter arrived with their beverages and Neph's salad, along with Kat's bread and grass, giving him a few more moments to think before he had to say something. After the waiter turned and left, Neph leaned forward once again, expressing himself clearly and seriously. No trace of his earlier cockiness remained. A waft of his cologne still dissipated forward with his movement.

"Well, assuming you haven't sensed my emotions already, which you probably have, I haven't had many positive experiences with Force sensitives at all. It's partially a cultural thing, partially a personal thing. Throughout my life, I've lived in communities that didn't really look at any Force sensitive as all as particularly good news. But look, besides the fact your too pretty for me to pass up on," he added that last part in quickly, it was true, but he didn't want her to think he was trying to sweet talk again.

"I've learned a lot of things I thought were true in the past were not correct. So. My view on all of that might just change a bit, all because of you." He added in a warm wink at the last part, then back to serious mode.

"And Kat, that means so much you just shared all of that with me...now, this is not the path I really would want to take on a date, so hopefully we can move on to other, happier topics after this. But I feel like sharing the truth right now is a great foundation for later things...and I feel obligated to tell you my story now." Neph visibly took some effort to compose himself. The memories were still painful. He took a considerable swig of his champagne before beginning.

"I was the firstborn son to two Mandalorians on Mandalore. As the first born son, I started actively training for life as a warrior at age 6. It wasn't hard, and honestly till this day I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if my childhood wasn't a boot camp. But that's part of who I am, and it's made me strong enough to still be alive." A pause, and a visible deep breath.

"I passed my rite of passage at 13 and became a man. That didn't mean a whole lot then, on Mandalore, except I got my own little piece of the clan ranch. But I wish to whatever gods that exist that it had stayed that way. When the civil war started, a lot of my clan members joined the Separatists, a lot of them were young and stuff, too idealistic...bought too heavily into that new way of thinking. Including my sister. Shit. Most beautiful girl I'll ever know...she kept that innocence even though she was raised like me, to kill." His eyes glassed over slightly in remembrance of her. His first love, really. A bond between siblings that was the greatest bond he had ever known in his short life.

"My parents were like me. The new system was doomed to fail, it was to aruetii. But we couldn't go to war against our own blood. So we stuffed those feelings down deep inside ourselves and did our duty, for the clan, not this new movement. When that fortress got blown to all hell, I lost everything. Every surviving member of my clan, who shared blood with me, was blown to bits in that explosion. I was the only one left of the clan, a bloodline that stretched back hundreds of years...that responsibility, plus my grief, I couldn't handle that. I did a lot of merc work in those years after, a lot of drinking, fast women," he said, scoffing at the last bit to show how he felt about all that now.

"Just recently, really, I got myself together. Stopped drinking so hard. Started saving my creds. Went back to my roots, stopped serving fat slugs and started taking orders from Mando'ade like I should have been doing. I'm on here as some sort of joint op with the Hapans. But yeah, that's me. I'm a killer, partially reformed alcoholic, with demons, who truth be told doesn't really know how to treat a lady, a real lady. But I'm trying. And you're a warror too. That'll make it easier. I was scared I would have to deal with some civvie who would be getting ulcers whenever I had to go fight," he said with a quiet laugh. By the end of the spiel, his head was down, his eyes on the table cloth, his fingers toying with the ends of it.

He stopped speaking, letting the few moments of silence grow, waiting for her reply. It was all out there, in its entirety, in all of its fallibility and tragedies. She had done hers, and now his. Hopefully she wouldn't run off of him now. No other being had heard that story like that, and with good reason. Even to him, he sounded like a huge mess.

Funny how just minutes ago he had decided not to tell that story...

That's why he didn't do dates. They messed with his head. Made his heart's protective shell, his karta beskar'gam, actually crack open and shit.

 

[Solaris]

Kat couldn't help but giggle and smile at the snuck-in compliment. It was much more nicely delivered than the earlier sleaze, and coming after her admonishment seemed very sincere - so long as he didn't lay it on too heavy. Her demeanor grew sober as he told his story, and she smiled sympathetically at him when he mentioned his family's death. It sounded like loss was something familiar to the both of them. She stiffened when she realized he was a Mandalorian - and a sworn enemy.

Katarina let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. She hadn't been looking for a fixer-upper, and this guy seemed like he came with a lot of baggage. She could have worked around that, though. She had at least as much as he did, and that was without bringing the dark voice into it. He seemed like a really nice guy underneath it all, and they had at least enough in common to get something going between them. She forced a smile, and reached out to touch his hand. "Well, eef you'll agree not to 'old eet against me, I won't 'old eet against you. Tonight, let's just be Kat and Neph, no war, no factions, no hates. Just two people lookeeng for someone to care for, no?"

 

[Nephill Kilner]

If Kat had expressed her dismay, Neph would have had the chance to explain himself. Her impression was slightly incorrect. And Neph guessed as such.

He was far from a Force user, but he was a man who had seen most of the galaxy had to offer. He could see her thoughts and emotions, and despite her training, he could see the words leaping out from her face. Through intuition and logic, he decided for one more chance, betting that she had misconstrued what he had said. If he was the one with the misconceptions, this date would be as good as over.

He turned her hand over into his to encircle it in his, and squeezed ever so slightly, the movement gentle and meant to convey warm feelings. "Kat...you say that like we are enemies. Something you must understand is that I don't have a political affiliation or a faction. I'm a Mandalorian Protector. What that means is, I serve the people. I'm like a sheriff, law enforcement. Except much more lethal." The smallest of grins.

"I don't fight with the Sith. I don't even really believe in the war, though I'll deny it to my superiors. I've had enough of Mandalorian ambitions. My interest isn't in fighting some red-bladed Force user's battle, I care only about preserving the Mandalorian people. The events that led up to the civil war, and the events that caused rifts in the Mandalorians before, will never happen again, not on my watch. And not all Mandalorians are warriors. Many of the people I look over, who are at home, are 'normal'....I'm talking business people, grandmothers, farmers, civilians. And I've never had to deal with administering an occupied planet, but I assure you, I serve the people. If I ever have that job, I would perform my duties fairly. Even the non-Mandalorians who live on our worlds deserve the watchfulness of the Protectors. I care only about the people. Not a war. Not a faction. No hate. Make sense?" he finished this with a palms up expression.

"And I don't want you to think I'm some broken down man...I've conquered my demons. Overcame them myself. And I'm a stronger man because of it. The worst I ever have are a few nightmares every once in a blue moon. I've come to terms with everything in life, and I'm very satisfied with where that's left me. My life is purposeful, calm even, amongst the chaos that is engulfing so many others. I'm very..."stable" now, respectable as you can tell," he said with a small chuckle, hands gesturing at his custom suit, this last part coming out fast, as he is clearly uncomfortable talking about himself at all, not really that it is a touchy topic. He conveys all his earnestness into that statement.

Those old days were gone.

 

[Solaris]

"Dzat - I am glad to 'ear dzat, Neph." She brushed a stray strand of hair back over her ear and tilted her head, smiling shyly at him. What he'd said was very reassuring, actually, as it meant not only were there Mandos who disagreed with being the Sith's lapdogs, it meant that she could pursue a relationship without too much conflict of interest. The thought that he might have been lying didn't even occur to her; she could sense his earnestness and honesty through her mundane and mystical senses. Besides, he thought she was an Imperial Knight-turned-Jedi-turned-bounty hunter, not actively engaged against the Sith occupation of the Empire as Lancer of the Imperial Knights, sworn protector of a dead Emperor. "Dzat ees noble of you. I'd dzought - but no matter. I'm glad my assumption was meestaken. Please do not dzeenk too eell of me, I was, well, I was afraid you were of dze odzer sort."

"I 'ave nightmares . . . quite frequently," Katarina said, taking a sip of her wine and not quite making eye contact. Some were from her own life, some were her own fears and overactive imagination, but a great many were from elsewhere. If he thought her story incredulous when she only gave part of it, he'd think her either a liar or insane with the full version. Kat really didn't want that; she was starting to like this handsome Mando. "I admit, I envy you your . . . strengz, dzat abeeleety to move on."

"Even eef we seem to have radzer deefferent defeeneetions of 'respectable'," she teased affectionately. "Ees dzat 'ome for you now, Neph? On Mandalore?"

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Of course, Neph was blissfully unaware, at least for now, of the thoughts running through her head. He does wonder for a brief few moments what she means by the "other sort." He felt reassured that she too, suffered from nightmares, and more frequently then he. He worried that his one major flaw would drive her away from him. Most beings with psychological knowhow knew that those who suffered from chronic nightmares often had some sort of underlying problem, whether it be mental or thee product of their experiences. But Neph knew it wasn't so simple, and looked at his own life for evidence to support that. As such, he hardly held that against Kat; in fact, it endeared her to him.

He also liked the fact that she admired his strength. His smile widens as the conversation turns to a less serious direction, and the teasing way she asked her next question.

He chuckled a bit. "You wound me," he said, equally playful. "But occasionally. To be honest, I've only been down there a few times to dust off the clan ranch. The droids there have maintained it, but all the crops and livestock are long gone. It's too big and empty for me..." He quickly caught himself, and reformed his smile. That's not where he wanted to go right now. "I mostly live on my ship. You know how it is. One cannot easily give up the pleasures of sleeping in an uncomfortable bunk, breathing refiltered air for hours on end, and with the soothing rattle of ship's engines to ease you into sleep," he said with a wink.

 

[Solaris]

Katarina sensed the conversational land-mine she'd stepped into only when she saw Neph's smile falter. Damn - she was not good at this small-talk thing. Still, he didn't seem too perturbed by it, so Kat decided that avoiding the subject was - contrary to her instincts - the better option. She should have known to not bring up his family, not with his . . . experience. She smiled apologetically, looking down in embarrassment.

"I know 'ow boys are," she said with mock seriousness when he mentioned his living conditions, taking another sip of her wine. They were familiar to her; she rarely lived in the same place for more than a week, and more often than not in the cockpit of her fighter. "Yes, yes, you may speak of your sheep. Eet weell neidzer bore nor confuse me." She smiled that beguiling smile of hers at him over the rim of her wine glass. Kat had the feminine mystique down without even really knowing what she was doing. "Eempress me . . . well, maybe."

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Neph let out another laugh. "I'll do my best, Kat," he said, staring into her eyes, his own twinkling. Let's see...it's a Pursuer-class enforcement ship model...heavily modernized of course...double laser cannons, ion turret, proton torpedoes, Class .5 Hyperdrive. Nothing too special, but gets the job done."

The Mando let a moment of silence go by. "Get's lonely sometimes though...Got plenty of room for two," he said quietly, letting that last part slip on and trail off in a way that will get the point across, but also not require a response. He added it on sort of wistfully, taking a gamble. He didn't know for sure if she was starting to like him, but judging from that mysterious, flirty way she was talking to him, he was on the right track.

The moment is again interrupted when the waiters arrive with their main dishes. They place the steaming plates onto the table. Each is artfully arranged, and the meat glistens with juice and spices. The food appears, and tastes positively delightful - worth every last credit.

 

[Solaris]

"I never much cared for dzat design," Kat remarked, feigning obliviousness to the invitation. It was simultaneously sweet and creepy - perhaps more so the latter, given that the Pursuer was a prison transport. She had the advantage of being Force-sensitive and an empath, so she could tell with more surety than most women that his motives were earnest, his only offense being a touch too eager for her affection. She smiled when she realized she found his awkwardness cute. "Eet's an ugly sheep, no art to eet. All boxy - not even good at dzat, eidzer. Eet amazes me dzat MandalMotors steell carries dze design, geeven how many blind spots, fire zone shadows, structure eessues, and maneuver problems eet has. Dze Firespray does everyzeeng dze Pursuer does, but at two-dzeerds dze size and maneuverabeeleety closer to a snubfighter dzan a corvette."

Katarina watched the waiter bringing in the food, then smiled and thanked him. "Dzees looks good," she said as she picked up the dinner fork and the knife. She held them in a dainty grip that bespoke her refined breeding, cutting the tender meat into tiny slices and eating with obvious pleasure. Her manners were impeccable, and she kept glancing up at Nephill with a little smile. After the second bite she looked up at him. "'Ow ees your steak, Neph?"

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Nephill took her jab at his ship choice in stride, even as it was insulting. Although clunky and admittedly ugly, the Bui'tsad had gotten him through his first bounties. It was reliable, and he had many fond memories on that ship. He would set the record straight later.

As the two began to take the first exploratory bites of their food, Neph savored the juicy steak. The taste was so perfect, it felt like he was eating from the table of Mand'alor himself. He meticulously took his time to cut tiny strips and chew through the soft meat for exact time increments as it literally disintegrated in his mouth. Although he was trying to mimic the way an aristocrat would hold his utensils, the positions were still awkward in his above average sized rough hands and the habit of just chowing in like the half-starved warrior background he came from. He had only learned proper etiquette recently, although to him the effort was what really counted. He admired the way she was holding hers, and her perfect manners. He let the moment pass, refusing to feel inadequate, meeting her little smiles with even wider ones and sparkling eyes.

"It's wonderful. And your dish?" he asked, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. Too juicy, it seemed.

After her reply, he ate his way through a quarter of the steak before initiating the next phase in the conversation.

"So uh, I lied earlier. Just a little though, don't shoot me," he said, with a smile and hands held out in surrender. "Or...stab me. Anyhow, don't tell anyone, but I just placed an order for a new Stathas-class Adaptive Gunship. I'm picking it up when I get back to Mandalore." He said this leaning forward and lowering his voice in semi-mock secrecy. It wasn't that serious, but then again there was a reason he had refrained from telling anyone else about the purchase. Besides the enormous cost, the SAG was fairly secretive and did contain some unique Mandalorian designed features - although far from Top Secret.

 

[Solaris]

"Deleecious," Katarina replied. "Dzeir chefs are true artistes, dzeir craft exqueeseete. Dzey compare well to dze chefs of dze Eempeerial Palace."

Katarina ate slowly, picking from each of the portions in turn and sipping at her wine. She was forcing herself to not devour the food as quickly as she normally would have, in part because she wanted to enjoy it and in part because she wanted to avoid looking like an unmannered savage - it had been a long time since she could enjoy a formal dinner like this. She didn't find the silence the least bit awkward, instead finding it rather comfortable. She could tell Neph was trying very, very hard to pass for civilized, and decided that on the next date, they'd have to go someplace a lot less formal. She was more comfortable ensconced in the rigid rules of high society, but poor Neph looked positively miserable. The way he smiled every time he caught her looking at him, though . . . oh yes, she decided there was definitely going to be a second date.

She arched an eyebrow at his admission, her expression deadpan. "Mm, I suppose stabbeeng you wouldn't be quite ladylike of me, no?" She cracked a smile, showing she was teasing. "I'm afraid you 'ave me at dze deesadvantage, Neph - I don't know what a Stadzas-class ees." She shrugged. "Eet sounds Mandalorian, dzough. . . anodzer patrol craft?"