Kuat - Shore Leave

[Alema Torr]

Kuat Drive Yards: Observation Annex​

The night-side of Kuat glittered with a billion tiny stars, mirrored in the near horizon by the edge of the ring dipping just below the rim of the planet. From up here, looking out from a massive spire above the bustling shipyards, everything in the galaxy seemed small. Massive warships, nearly a kilometer across, scuttled through the work-bays of the station like so many tiny beetles. It was barely possible to make out the lines of droid-ships, tugs, and worker's skiffs zipping around them, working 'round-the-clock to meet deliveries on ships that might one day find themselves on opposite sides of the war.

If she were prone to thinking such things, Alema might question her willingness to fight and die aboard them. Truthfully, her mind had been made up a long time ago. The point of the Republic, in her view, was to bring the galaxy to a point where people like her were unnecessary.

The business here with the Mandalorians was important. The Republic was trying to negotiate the use of the shipyards, and to assemble a fleet large enough to defend the galaxy without raising the ire of the crusaders. It was a noble effort, but it did put her on edge to have someone with so much power so close to the core.

She wasn't really sure if she was supposed to have an opinion about it at all. Her job had been to ferry diplomats to the station. While they worked, her job was to not get too drunk to fly. She thought she could manage that, and that was good enough for her.

The Twi'lek paid for an energy bar at the vendomat and a pouch of some kind of fruit-flavored juice, and made her way to the viewing area. It was a small concourse set up just off the main docking area, primarily reserved for shuttle pilots and the bodyguards of the people who were allowed to take the real tour of the facility. Though they weren't allowed into secure areas, this was a place to rest while diplomacy was done.

There weren't many people around just yet, so she managed to snag a place at the railing and looked down across the vastness of the construction.

"You don't see that every day."

 

[Braun Stoker]

The vast vacuum of space always made Braun feel so insignificant. He leaned against the railing of the viewing deck after having just finished their mission debriefing. They were to deploy to Balmorra in 8 local hours. Braun figures he would sleep some, but his restless nature prevented any progress on that front. He pulled his helmet off his face as he looked out at the ships being constructed and scrapped in the yard beyond. He thought back to his youth and the countless hours spent on scrapping ships with his father on Corellia. It was strange how long ago that felt to him now. He was a different person now, hardened by his service in the Sith Order and the war that has been meaninglessly waged.


For a moment, the objects out in the vast blanket of stars seemed to be a battle among themselves, Braun thought with an edge of quiet contemplation as he tried to shake off his existential dread. He waited by the debriefing room to see if any of the fellow lieutenants or mandolorians wished to discuss their departure before hitting the bunks before their duty called. He was certainly not to surprised by the emptiness of the space on the eve of deployment. Rubbing left side of his face, where his hair was still regrowing from the burns he had received during his last imperial operation on Serreno, the Republic trooper made his way to the vendomat to acquire some dried nutrient filled crackers and a zip sealed pouch of water.


He passed a Twi’lek officer who seemed to move to where he had been residing only moments before at the vendor that he now approached. They seemed captured in contemplation. The trooper casually moved out of their way as he snatched his rations from the machine, pinching the hems of the rapping and the water sack in between his fingers. His armor resembled that of the Old Sith Empire, only differing in the new coat of white pain Braun had given it to divorce his armor from that old affiliation. The blue stripes on his helmet and shoulders pronounced him as a lieutenant, but that made him no less self-conscious off his disposition.


He leaned up against the wall and consumed his crackers as he watched the officer travel to the railing. How quaint, he thought to himself as he used his helmet as a buck to hold his watersack while he consumed his tack. The salty cracker like ration reflected his jealousy of the pilots and their amazing skills. He had, when joining the empire, desired to be a fighter pilot himself, but was deemed too poor a flyer and was cast out as a conscript in the infantry. This was, in reality, a common occurrence Braun tried to remind himself. Never the less he remained as salty as the tack he had almost finished putting down. He heard the officer speak in wonder about the space, and scoffed a little more audibly than he would have liked.


“Don’t see that everyday? Give me a break pilot,” he grumbled to himself, though the comment might have been more audible in the metallic station than he might have thought when making the snide remark. He meant no disrespect and thus he opened the seal on his water bag and began to sip from the pouch. Ship docks like the one he was currently on always made him long for his home world of Corellia, but alas he would have to keep his mind sharp for their deployments in the near future.

@Sandshark

 

[Alema Torr]

Hearing the officer speak, Alema turned around quickly. She found herself standing up just a little straighter, and smoothing out her crisp grey uniform self-consciously. "Lieutenant?" She said, her tone halfway between question and greeting. "I didn't see you there. I..." She paused for a moment to pick the right thing to say. From the looks of this man he was a veteran, and one with substantial experience over her to boot. Then again, his grizzled appearance spoke to a spirit she could respect. He was much more like her than most naval officers were, many of whom came straight from the upper spires of Coruscant looking for a cushy government job.

"I guess I don't get to appreciate it much." She said, finally. Then she smiled at him, the corners of her lips quirking up as she thought about the place they were. "And there's really no place like Kuat. Biggest shipyard in the Galaxy."

 

[Braun Stoker]

“It is hard to appreciate the magnitude of the galaxy at times,” Stoker admitted as he drank from his sealed sack before closing the lock on the back. He was of the opinion that the endless bounds of the universe were impressive to say the least, but he was also not really the contemplative type to begin with. When the Ensign mentioned Kuat being the biggest spaceport in the galaxy, the Lieutenants eyebrow twitched with a twinge of surprise. “Maybe this is the biggest Spaceyard you’ve been to, I guess you’ve never docked at Corellia then.” He commented fondly of his home world. “Imagine an entire planet that is the shipyard...” he said before trailing off for a moment as he acknowledged his fellow Ensign before leaning over the rail himself, resting his helmet on the ground with the water pouch inside, like a bucket.


He thought of how the last time he had seen his home was during the retreat when the empire ceded Corellia to the Mandolorians. It had been a bloody conflict that followed the decline of the Sith Empire. He was still bitter over being forced to flee his home world. He had not been back since his turn to the republic. “Regardless...you’re right, this station is amazing.” He finished with a more somber tone that he had once had. He picked his helmet back up and opened up his water pouch. His expression reflected his moment of loss before returning back to the present. He took a sip once again trying to keep his focus on their future tasks instead of his past failures. “I guess if you’re a pilot you must be pretty clever, is that right Ensign?” He now addressed the fellow officer, using a tone of respect as he spoke.

@Sandshark

 

[Alema Torr]

Alema nodded in agreement at Braun's words. It really was important to take in the galaxy once in a while. She didn't do it enough, but looking out there at all the stars, or hovering in the darkness over a world peopled by billions- sometimes even trillions -of people was a reminder of what she was fighting for.

The mention of Corellia was something that stung her, though she tried not to let it show on her face. She had never been to the planet, even though it was an essential part of the galactic landscape. In truth, she was still a backwater girl. Even though she'd been to space she had only set foot on two major worlds, if Ryloth even counted as major these days.

Her reverie was broken by his question. It was a bit tactless, causing her to bristle slightly. Her lekku twitched as the emotion passed through her, a habit she was glad most humans couldn't understand. Still, she had to remember that not every person who asked about her was trying to pick at her suitability. This was a compliment. Probably. "Clever? Well, I hope so. If I got here on luck I think I'd be very disappointed in myself."

@Tetsu

 

[Braun Stoker]

“I figured as much, your rank proves your merit.” Braun complemented as she finished his water sack and situated his helmet onto his head. “I do have to warn you not to a besmirch luck though, in these coming days we are going to need as much as we can get” he warned as his voice took on the metallic tone of the troopers of the galaxy. The Republic was but a fledgling sect of planets, still weaning on the breasts of the mandolorians conquest that has made such a democratic advancement possible. Their mission assignments with the mandolorians would be crucial in cultivating the relationship that would give the Republic some legitimacy.

It’s was this moment that Lt. Stoker realized his flaw in educate. “My name is Lt. Braun Stoker designation RT-3365, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He offered his hand politely to his peer of equal rank. There was no greater greeting than a proper handshake and with his voice modulator activated. Braun was an infantryman and thus was a simplistic fellow. He, unlike the twi’lek officer, was not very clever.

@Sandshark

 

[Alema Torr]

"I know what you mean, but tell me: with scars like yours, don't you think you've made your own luck?" The Twi'lek came up and grasped Braun's hand tightly, giving him a firm handshake. Up close, her mottled yellow-orange skin also showed distinct scars, especially on the backs of her hands. They weren't like the blast-scarring that Braun had, but because of their number and uniformity they looked more like they were from some kind of manual labor.

When she withdrew her hand she introduced herself. "Lieutenant Alema Torr. I'm a deck officer and transport pilot. It's good to meet you." She offered him a small smirk, preemptively laughing before she cracked a joke to break the ice: "I've got to say, out of everyone I've met in the Republic I like you ground-pounders the best. I fly a lot of people up and down the well on Coruscant, and infantrymen never complain about a bumpy ride."

@Tetsu

 

[Braun Stoker]

"The pleasure is all mine," He commented as he withdrew his hand after the firm exchange. The Twi'lek officer had been pleasant so far, and even cracked a joke. Braun's dry sense of humor did not, at first, catch onto the humorous report. "We are easy customers, we are also trained to not complain, which certainly helps with that," he admitted while rubbing the back of his helm. He could not count all the times he had been the passenger of a battle bound shuttle. He could tell, by looking at the Twi'lek's hands, after having shook them, that they were hardened by some sort of labor. His hands were scarred with chemical burns from his years as a ship scrapper and working with nitroglicorine based explosives, but Alema would not have noticed under his gauntlets.

The Corellian officer took in the Ensign's face, trying to put it to memory so that he would be able to recognize Lt. Torr in the future. Most troopers in his detachment would be preparing their gear and equipment; however, Trooper Stoker had all his gear already on his person. "Well, I have a few hours before we are to be shipped out to Balmorra. Care to Join me for a walk Lieutenant Alema Torr" he offered as he spoke the Twi'lek's full name as a device to attempt to remember it. He was indeed very simple, but his tenacity often compensated for that. He cocked his head, awaiting an answer as the hollow space beyond the observation deck remained silent.

@Sandshark

 

[Alema Torr]

As they conversed, Alema took note of how Braun seemed to look her over. He came off as a simple man, but there was obviously something more there. Whether or not he would admit to it, he was sizing her up as a soldier just like she was with him. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome. For most people, especially civilians, the head-tails were all they saw in her. An oddity in uniform. Here she was a comrade in arms, even if she was pretty green in comparison.

Braun's offer was a welcome distraction. "Yeah, that would be fantastic." She replied, her face brightening. "Do you know your way around the ring? I've probably got another few hours before the negotiations finish, unless the Senators offend a Mando and get their heads blown off. And if that happens then at least I'll have a head start getting out of here." Alema had been joking about it ever since she heard they were going, but she also realized the negotiations might really be tense. She really didn't know what Mandalorians were like in person, but the stories made them seem just as stubborn as the worst politicians. Putting the two together? Well, she was glad she wasn't in the room.

@Tetsu

 

[Braun Stoker]

"wonderful" Braun agreed as he turned to walk down the cat walk that overlooked the nearby shuttle bay. He gestured for Lt. Torr to follow suit. It was nice to have company, and Braun had always been in favor of getting to know his cohorts. "Honestly Lieutenant, I know very little about the ring, other than that I'm suppose to meet our fire team in this sector of it in about eight hours." he expressed with his curt candor. He could tell, by Lieutenant Torr's remarks that she had a good sense of humor. He knew that the mandalorians were going to be joining them on these upcoming mission, but it did not relieve him of his worries. He had fought against them during the days of the Empire. They were ruthless warriors, and sadly there may have been some truth in her words, unbeknownst to the speaker.

"Mandalorians are formidable warriors...I'm sure the Senators have their hands full dealing with them." He expressed with a sliver of seriousness in his voice. He did not fully trust the mandalorians and their intentions, but would surely stomach working with them. "You know, this space station is huge, how many people do you think come through here every day?" he asked, searching for more light conversation so he would not need to talk about the mandos any more. They were a symbol of his defeat after all.

@Sandshark

 

[Alema Torr]

The change in topic was a welcome diversion. Politics were something Alema did care about, but they were something she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to care about. "I don't think I'd be able to count them. I mean, it must be billions. All the workers, the supply freighters, people coming and going to look at merchandise. It's so big they have six different systems for arrival and departure, just so the hyperlane entries and exits don't cross." She'd had to navigate the labyrinth of docking procedures herself, so she understood how incredible it must be for people to have to manage all of that. There was probably a droid doing it, now that she thought about it.

She thought for a moment before asking a question of her own. "What was it like growing up on Corellia? Coruscant is enormous, but it's mostly residential. You said Corellia was a planet-sized shipyard, so where do people live?"

@Tetsu

 

[Braun Stoker]

“Oh, how interesting,” Braun expressed as they walked. He knew nothing of the intricate processes behind docking a ship inside of station. He knew a little about the operation of ships, but none of the nuances that made a truly exceptional space pilot. He was an infantryman for a reason after all. “I don’t really know too much about docking procedures, but what you’re saying makes quite a bit of since.” He continued as the walked along the catwalk of the shuttle bay they had been observing.

“Corellia? It’s huge into the ship industry,” He expressed as he tried to gesture with his hands. “When I was a boy, the Empire would dock their large ships outside of Cornet City, the capital, and we would work on them right there on the planet.” He told the Lieutenant with a hint of excitement as he thought about his youth. “The dockyards in space were more spread out than they are here. On Kuat it’s all on one ring, but on Corellia we would sometimes shuttle up the stations and work on scrapping parts from the old ships, repair em, or whatever, you get the idea.” He finished as he glanced down at the docking bay.


“The people on the planet live in Cornet city, or in towns that themselves were part of the shipyards for the most part.” He expressed as he had only really been to the industrial parts of the planet. "There are some forests and places for agurculture I would reckon, but for the most part scrapping and shipbuilding was the industry there.” He explained, though he was unsure if the Lieutenant appreciated the history lesson. "Life on Corellia can be hard, there is lots of poverty and the industry is rough on our bodies" He explained as he thought about his burned and broken hands. “I haven’t been home since the Republica retreated from that planet, when we ceded it to the Mandalorians.” He expressed in a somber tone that showed how the war hardened Lieutenant longed for his home. He was a simple man, who liked his small home among the piles of ship parts and bolts. He had joined the Empire to be part of something bigger than himself, and it had all fallen apart.

@Sandshark

 

[Alema Torr]

Alema listened to his story with rapt attention. His youth on Corellia, and his path to the Empire, sounded a lot like how she had come to the Republic. Years of hard labor at a commercial scrapper was different from a hard life scrounging in the refuse, but not by a lot. The Twi'lek looked down at her hands self-consciously. The small, straight scars covering the back of her hands were from a childhood of labor in the poorest part of Ryloth, plunging her small hands into the husks of consoles, engine manifolds, and hyperdrive regulators to tear out the priceless metals inside. As she grew, each dip was more likely to result in a cut, but she had to work to live. She wondered if his life had been the same.

His story was different. The retreat from Corellia... The abandonment of the Imperials and their dissolution. She wasn't sure how that felt. She wasn't even really sure what to say. "Was there a reason? I mean- for you joining the Empire. Leaving your home."

@Tetsu

 

[Braun Stoker]

“Because, at the time, it felt like the right thing to do,” he expresses in a lamentable tone that was still recognizable behind the helmets voice scrambler. “To us, the Empire was everything, like being part of the biggest power in history...but behind all the propaganda and flowered words there was nothing but the Sith and malice.” He expressed as he remembered the many battles and deployments he had endured. He felt a short instance of despair before remembering all the good out comes. He and been able to join the republic army because of his service. He was glad it had worked out the way it had. Maybe now, without the stigma of being an imperial, he might return home to corellia one day.


“But enough about that, why are you here in the Grand Army Ensign? I was unaware that Ryloth was part of Republic space.” He ask, genuinely knowing nothing of the planet other than it being the home world of the Twi’lek people. There were possibly colonies and the people were certainly not bound to that planet but Braun was as simple as they came. He walked on casually, wondering what such a planet looked like. He had been to many different places, but he had never been to Ryloth.

@Sandshark

 

[Alema Torr]

Alema gave Braun a wry smile. "I'm a long way from home, Lieutenant. Ryloth has been out of our control for a long time, and even though every one of us, somewhere deep down, longs for Liberation Day, living there means leaving your destiny in someone else's hands. I had bigger ambitions than my sisters did, so I left. Spent some bad times on Coruscant, then joined the System Defense Force. The Republic..." She raised a hand and then closed it into a fist for effect. "It means something to me. I don't mean to offend you, but I never liked the idea of an Emperor. When I think about what we're fighting for, it's to give every planet a voice in their future."

That was the short version, anyway, but there was a lot he didn't need to know. There was a lot nobody needed to know, if she was being honest.

@Tetsu

 

[Tsara]

Sometimes, the Capital-sized civilian cruise liner ships had a celebration party thrown around them when construction was complete, with booze, food, and a holo-projector or three emitting an image of the fully realized vessel. Given that the Kuat Drive Yards were a highly efficient assembly line, these parties happened more often than one might expect, with cordial gatherings in open areas of the ring. The 'Galaxy's Lady' was no different. An assembly of design engineers and patrons who'd funded the construction of the ship, along with its upper end command staff chatted among each other while clinking glasses of overpriced, sparkling libations that would have them staggering before too long.

The slender design of The Galaxy's Lady was blown up large above their heads by two, massive holo-projectors, flickering blue, big and bold, and rotating in a circle so every end of it could be admired.

Tsara Tarr moved a furry, gripping hand up and forward from her butt, settling it on her waist line as the lascivious Snivvian structural engineer she was dancing with smiled knowingly. Tsara kept her ever stoic expression, only raising a brow slightly at him as they circled and spun among other engineers and management staff dancing with hired, attractive, escorts. A dozen, at least, Buxom Zeltrons in low cut dresses, half that in slender and tall Togruta women with long skirts slitted on each side up to reveal tawny flesh, and full hips. Then, lastly, there was her with seven other barely dressed Twi'lek exotic dancers hired to dance around the presenter, serve drinks, and yes, dance with lecherous, high achieving individuals.

The Snivvian's name was Behq Teegwhol.

He attempted to get his hand up under her loincloth for the umpteenth thousandth time.

The slap she gave his hand this time, and barely there evil smile she shot him was enough to get the message through to him. He smiled rows of teeth again and whispered an apology. "Do you give personal dances?" he asked with a laugh in his throat. Tsara leaned in close, cheek to cheek, and made sure she tickled his ear with her lips when she spoke.

"Yes, but you are overweight, your heart couldn't handle it."

The Snivvian, who was rather plump, scoffed, and aborted another attempt to grope her, walking away and leaving her alone on the roped off dance floor. An exhale, and she strutted away, ready to grab a tray of hors d'oeuvres from one of her fellow Twi'lek dancers.

"Tarr, you're late for break. Grab a plate to eat, and get away from all the hands for a second." she was told by K'yellyth, a light green, taller Twi'lek than herself with more va-va-voom too. She was in charge of coordinating all the ladies and their respective break rotations. Nodding, Tsara rolled her shoulders and left the vicinity of the celebration, snagging something bubbly in a fluted glass as she went. There were stars, and a railing to rest her elbows on so she could watch them somewhat more relaxed.

Still processing the series of events that got her this deep near the center, Tsara sipped and marveled at the show out in the vacuum; ships streaking by, an expance of twinkling stars.

Her thoughts went back to Ossus when she followed this cognitive trail, dwelling on a towering Sith Acolyte and a tired Jedi Padawan. Those encounters, perhaps, was why she'd taken on with a troupe of Twi'lek exotic dancers. She'd been brought face to face with The Force. Both sides of it. Tsara shook her head, and focused on the stars and rushing ships.

There was no running from the Force, it was everywhere, but she could at least give herself a bit of space from it until she figured out where it fit into her present interests. Glancing sideways, she sipped again and observed two individuals that seemed to be of military bearing, chatting at length as they skirted along the ring, enjoying the view, like her, but enjoying their company it seemed, even more. One of them was a Twi'lek, and Tsara winced, thinking it odd she wasn't in a loin cloth, veils, and golden bracelets like she was.

Tsara realized that she'd gone down a common path for most of the women of her race. The orange Twi'lek next to the armored soldier was something rare, something that she should celebrate.

They weren't all just 'the entertainment'.

@Sandshark @Tetsu

 

[Braun Stoker]

Lieutenant Torr was a democracivan through and through. He could respect her view for sure. She explained a bit of her home world and the restrictive nature of her upbringing. Braun knew that growing up where he had removed lots of the opportunities that he could have had in a different core world. He had, in his youth, bought into the propaganda fed to the imperial worlds. The emperor was there for the best interest of the people, or so the Sith would have had everyone believe. Braun discovered the falsehood of this first hand after the emperor ceded much of the empire to the mandalorians. Needless to say, he had come to think of consolidated power as a bad thing.

“I guess we are both survivors...of different wars.” He expresses to the Twi’lek, sensing her discomfort when talking about Ryloth. He wasn’t going to push those buttons. He had only just met the Ensign after all. He stopped and looked over the shuttle bay as he thought about his struggles with the empire and how they were not too far departed from that of Alema. He was a veteran now of two armies, and it was playing hell on his psychology.

“Anyway you seem pretty ambitious, I guess you will be my boss one day then Lieutenant,” he joked, lighting the mood of their dreary conversation. He was trying to keep himself in the game for their upcoming mission, and lighthearted conversation was probably best. His contemplative expression was masked by his helm that made him of the nameless troopers of the Republic. It was about that time that the pair would come upon the Twi’lek girl that seemed to be lounging outside of one of the bar like clubs that the station seemed to sport occasionally on the ring.

[a new challenger approaches XD]

Braun noticed how the young lady seemed to glance towards the militant pair. He paid close attention to the look that the Twi’lek gave Alema, possibly in regards to her military outfit. Braun would not have known the nuance that was present in the military that made it less common to see Twi’lek officers. He was, as always, a man of plain thought. To him, your merits valued more than the color of the skin. He had never approved of the Sith and their sometimes xenocidal tendencies. He watched quietly as they approached, glancing between the Twi’lek and Alema Torr under the guise of his visor, wondering if they had any business with each other.

@Sandshark @Tsara Tarr

 

[Alema Torr]

"Count on it, Lieutenant." She said, giving Braun a self-assured grin. But when her eyes fell on the dancer her expression changed in an instant. She grimaced, cringing away slightly despite herself. No matter how far away she got from Ryloth, it always made her uncomfortable to see a brother or a sister like this. Maybe it was because this was a reminder of what she could have been. She'd certainly lost enough childhood friends to the sex trade, or to dancing which was little different. To the galaxy at large, there were no ugly Twi'leks, which meant a never-ending demand for the destitute and nubile. More than Mining Guild mismanagement, it was the Hutt Cartel fulfilling that demand that drained the life-blood of Ryloth.


All of a sudden Alema realized what she was doing, and tried to compose herself. No matter what her circumstances were, it wouldn't do any good to talk down to the green-skinned girl. She was kin, of a kind, and obviously much younger. Young enough that she couldn't hate her for taking the easy money. "Speaking of survivors, I didn't expect to see a Twi'lek here." She nodded to the dancer and spoke to her in Ryl. "Chuba! Noga uba tono warkee Numa?" <<Hey! Are you working here, Sister?>> Even if Braun knew the basics of the language, the deeper meaning was conveyed by the movement of her head and the tips of her lekku, and it wasn't subtle: Are you selling your body?

@Tetsu @Tsara Tarr

 

[Tsara]

There were many in the galaxy that could speak fluent Ryl with beautiful enunciation, and nuance, that were not Twi'lek. Yet there was nothing to compare to a native tongue speaker saying one thing that foreign ears would hear as a jovial greeting while only the native being addressed understood that there was a barb hidden beneath the pleasantry. The feminine Lekku could ruin men and convey so much with a simple tremble.

The greeting, and its sub-dermal meaning, stood though. On Ryloth, or most places in the Outer Rim, the question was a completely legitimate one to have asked a Twi'lek woman who was of age. In this particular case, this fellow Twi'lek had every reason to assume she was a 'working' girl given how (little) she was dressed. The work itself at hand wasn't sex work per se, but it was close, and the man who hired the dance troupe implied juicy monetary incentives if they made sure that the engineers 'found themselves lucky' at some point after the party...

Regardless, a reply was in order, and, it couldn't sound in anyway embarrassed, but it shouldn't be too enthusiastic either. "Azu no chappa wongee, Numa," <<As the saying goes, Sister>> "Shluppa ong tatta wuuma noga dondo qembu ti sassa yeng," <<Destitutes and naked women are not known to drop much>>.

A round about way of saying 'yes' without actually saying the word or giving many details, at least to someone who learned the language that wasn't Twi'lek. The image conjured by the saying was that of the less fortunate holding on to whatever they could get their hands on, including work, to keep it. Essentially 'what's mine is mine'. To the Ryloth born, the saying bore a subtle lash when unpacked, a brusque retort akin to "What I do is my own business, not yours.". Not entirely diplomatic, but neither a preamble to conflict. It acknowledged that Torr was the better woman of the two of them, but that she shouldn't push her too much. Between both women it drew the quintessential line needed for civil discourse beyond what had already been said.

Tsara turned towards Stoker, and leered him up and down stoically before looking back at Torr, pointing a inquisitive finger back at Stoker.

"Ubaru pungo?" translated to speakers as <<Your friend?>> but the slight curling Tsara made with her Lekku added a teasing implication to the question that only women would get: <<On top [of you]?>>.

It'd been forever since Tsara could do this with a sister of Ryloth. A little verbal catch through girl talk.

This was nice.

@Tetsu @Sandshark

 

[Atraxis Aburay]

Atraxis had gotten the holocall a few hours ago, and had reluctantly agreed to meet his partner at Kuat. She had some work she had been a part of and according to their deal a few weeks back he had bid her adieu for a while to await her call. She had done more than enough for him, helping him and acquiring information that went into the acquisition of new relics and items used by wielders of the force to expand his knowledge. He was in one of the docking bays amid the shipyards, paying the toll for the bay as he felt his mind ting a bit letting him know she was close by.

He was walking down the ramps into the walkways when he saw the Cruiser, the massive waste of metal made for transport and comfort of the rich and utterly stupid. Such a grandiose waste of credits was almost painful to look at, but it proved that his partner had chosen a rather plump target. He could feel her closer and closer until he could see her in the distance, the green skin far more noticeable than the 'lack of actual clothing', on account of you know.....the lack of it. He caught a few guys staring and honestly, her outfit really worked to well but hey who was he to judge. She looked good, he wasn't gonna deny the obvious. A small common blaster strapped to his hip, honestly it was for show rather than use. Hell he didn't even really know how to use one outside of basic shooting.

He walked up and managed to catch the lekku end of the conversation between Tsara and Alema and honestly he felt the corner of his lips turn up a bit before he mercilessly slaughtered the emotion with a vengeance. He came up behind Tsara, taping her shoulder once. "You could have gave me a call a bit earlier, I could have gotten everything ready ahead of time Tsara. You know I don't like being caught off guard."

@Tsara ​