Ask Nice Face, Can I Have It?

[Nakoa Singh]

There was a rumble through the Wrean's chest that might've been a low chuckle, separate only from the Pureblood's by thin cloth, at the sound of Azar's suggestion. Singh's answer was all charm, a tilt of the head to accent their lopsided grin as the other man drew back. "Of course." Nakoa was having fun, that much was certain, and Azar was interesting. Not for his origin, but by way of being. The inattentive masses were largely boring.

Azar, however? His crimson skin was hot beneath clothing still marked by his quick escape. Faint scents of scorched flesh, blood, and bacta from beneath his bandaged arm. Eyes that watched and yearned, curious even in desire. A curiosity returned by Singh in earnest. They'd watched one another in their own natural ways, and soon the view would be closer and further amatory.

In one motion Singh would sweep Azar up and off the dance floor, iron limbs pressing into the Pureblood's thigh and around his waist to keep him well upright as Nakoa strode off to a side door by the corner. Singh had decided he didn't feel like pausing their mutual attention just for the sake of a little walking and went right back to kissing the other man, apparently unhindered on his way save for a little shouldering through the crowd. Whether the fact he was rougher than necessary had been spurred by drink or purely impatience was up in the air.

Midway through brushing fangs against the pureblood's collarbone he kicked open the door, moving up a short set of stairs into a small, apartment-like loft. Obviously temporary and impersonal, it served as a place for Singh without being his place. Apparently the bed- a simply adorned but wide and comfortable thing shoved into a corner opposite a window covered by cleans- was too far. Instead, Azar would be deposited atop a compact work desk. A mug of pens spilled to the floor, irrelevant as the Trandoshans and just as immediately forgotten.

"Lend a hand undressing?" Nakoa rumbled from somewhere near one of Azar's metal-pierced ears. The Wrean's touch wandered freely to find buckles, latches, buttons, and bare skin. "My hands are busy."

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

To say that Azar was surprised was an understatement. There was an audible gasp as he was effortlessly swept up by the slender Wrean. The bigger surprise was how much he didn’t mind it. His legs wrapped around Singh, and he was easily carried up the stairs and into some room he didn’t care about. Azar’s focus was solely on the other man, his hands exploring and his lips and mouth tasting wherever he pleased.

He smirked as Singh drew back to speak, his hand first going to that neat braid and undoing it. He then proceeded to urgently undo his clothing, fingers tracing along skin and muscle as unbridled desire coursed through him. Azar hadn’t been with another man in a very long time, and he almost forgot how exquisite it could be.

“Get used to it,” Azar said with a smirk, “I keep you busy for a while,” He said gruffly before hungrily capturing Singh’s lips again.

—​

It was some time later that he found himself on the bed, other parts of the room left a mess. The desk he was originally on was overturned, but all in all, the look was an improvement over before. Azar didn’t bother dressing just yet, his entire body lined with sweat and a satisfied look on his face.

“I hope lizards don’t kill your people while we up here..” He said lazily after a long moment of content silence. They had been completely oblivious to whatever was going on downstairs.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Singh had been patient with Azar undoing his braid, ink-dark hair spilling free in stygian cascades. He had no qualms with being undressed, proudly flaunting every new glimpse of freshly bared skin. Every silver-tinged scar, colorful tattoo, and hard-earned muscle. Silken and sable locks thickly spilled over to frame the Wrean's features wild, a lion's mane in shades of black. Amber, gold, and yellow in their matched gaze met somewhere in the middle. By the end, only the gill-cover remained.

A fire lit to steam them on, Singh's hands were no less busy. It took restraint not to tear cloth and leather from flushed crimson skin. One's desire fed endlessly off the other until there was little left but the heat. Robbed of a response to Azar's gruff insistence by a kiss, Singh thought only to himself as they shamelessly drank of one another.

Promises, promises.
-------
​

Nakoa lounged across the bed, posture languid and lazy as a satisfied cat with his back halfway supported by the corner wall. A brown-wrapped cigarra's cherry flame gently smoldered, smoke blown out the small, open window just beside. Naturally, Azar'd been offered a hand-rolled cigarra himself which Singh would light if taken.

Singh had no trouble with physical closeness, but this room had shit AC and he risked overheating afterward. All the same, a leg had been casually left over one of Azar's even as he otherwise found a little space to cool down by the window. Most of his scars were mixed. Some across the Wrean's thighs, however, would seem older and more deliberate if Azar paid enough attention to them. He did have nice legs.

Lips curling upward into a smirk, Nakoa's gaze slipped from the window view to take in Azar on the bed's opposite end. "They can deal. I'm enjoying the scenery." His eyes flicked over to find the clock. Previously on the desk, it was now flopped over on the floor like damn near everything else. Singh's head tilted to read it.

"Are they stupid?" he wondered aloud about the Trandoshans with audible disappointment.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar wasn’t familiar with cigarra, but the smells were sometimes pleasant. He was only accustomed to local herbs wrapped and smoked - ‘connecting with the Force’ they called it. The memory drew out a chuckle. The Pureblood glanced to the side, admiring the slender build next to him. Azar had a defined body, much of his torso tattooed in traditional designs. The black ink was especially sharply contrasted against the vivid red of his skin.

“Where you learn…Force?” He asked out of the blue as he looked over at Singh. Pureblood were taught about it since birth, but this man clearly had been trained and yet did not run in any Sith circles Azar saw. Surely he was not a Jedi? Azar didn’t wait for a response, rolling over to be slightly atop him. He had certainly enjoyed tasting and teasing the other man, enough to where he didn’t mind trying it again.

Azar trailed kisses along Singh’s neckline, savoring the taste of his salty skin. He took a particularly long time against his chest, “You too naughty for Jedi,” The Pureblood gave a throaty chuckle at his own remark as he continued down.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Amberine eyes traced down along rivers of black etched across a carmine sea in all their swooping curves, hard lines, sharp corners, and finest details. Glimpses of golden metal stood out further wherever they'd been placed, half as bright as the yellow gaze traveling across Singh's body. Always observing, even for this. Nakoa looked up that gaze as Azar asked his unexpected question, eyebrows raised with interest and smirk returning in force.

It widened toward a grin when the other man moved, lips landing freely where they pleased atop heated skin. Nakoa playfully stretched himself out for a better view from Azar's position, muscle rippling beneath. "Oh, am I now?" Singh teased in a low voice that purred in his chest beneath the other man's lips, turning into an echoed chuckle. His fingers brushed upward along Azar's spine, sensually tracing along tattoos. "Just so." His fingers brushed encouragingly along the pureblood's gold-endowed ear and across his facial ridges before rising to comb rhythmically through Azar's hair.

He took a drag before really answering, smoke curling to escape through the window in one long, slow cloud, followed by the thrown cigarra.

"I am a Shaman of Wrea," Singh answered, open with that information to most who asked. Numerous cultures had different ways of viewing and utilizing the Force. "Ocean world," he added. It wasn't exactly infamous like Dathomir or the Twin Worlds. "Taught by my people. Learn more from the galaxy." Nakoa's head cocked like he was listening for something, looking at Azar from a slight angle that accentuated his features and the uneven grin set upon them.

The Pureblood's appearance narrowed his probable origins to anyone familiar with his people. But that didn't mean the Wrean scholar's curiosity abated. "How did you learn?" he asked while a free leg beneath Azar curled, skin teasing across exposed skin as the other man slid lower. Best to ask now before Azar was busy again.

At this point, Singh assumed the Trandoshan pursuers had died running through traffic and gave them no further thought. Azar assuredly kept his full attention.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar savored the taste of his salty skin and he took his time exploring. He was teasingly kissing along a thigh when Singh curled his fingers into Azar’s hair. The pureblood paused for a moment at his words, “I..not seen ocean,” He admitted as he looked at the other man. He had only read about great bodies of water capable of swallowing entire cities and he couldn’t fathom it. He had only seen sand dunes and desert. For a moment Azar was entirely too preoccupied as he got to work on Singh, listening for the way he breathed and moved. It was exhilarating and he couldn’t get enough.

He drew back after a generous amount of time, grinning at the other man as he rose up on his knees looking down at Singh, “Not obvious?” He gestured at himself broadly, “Born Sith. Always Sith,” Azar said before he nudged Singh’s legs along to challenge his flexibility. He leaned over the other man, melting against him in what appeared almost sensual, but there was no mistaking the lust there. A sharp exhale, a nudge here and there, and he was exactly where he wanted to be. Azar fixated on the vivid eyes, the sharp fangs, the hair sprawled out around Singh’s head, the countless scars that painted a tapestry of stories. He didn’t care about the stories just yet, but perhaps he would ask one day. For now, he asked only for the heat, the fire, the passion and unbridled desire.

Azar collapsed against Singh eventually, fighting the urge to simply fall asleep right there. After what felt like an eternity, he finally drew back and away. The Pureblood sat on the edge the bed, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, “I need capture Trandoshans,” He said after a long moment of silence, “Need the credits,” Azar admitted bitterly. He was entirely lost in this new galaxy, and he could only count on his specific breadth of knowledge to get around in it.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Singh's head leaned slightly forward, smirking mysteriously. "Like liquid gemstones, cool and salty. Full of life and danger. One day you will." It might've been testament to his own restraint that he didn't go into some long, poetic description of Wrea's oceans. In actuality, though, Singh was thoroughly distracted by Azar and their mutual attention.

A fang-filled grin flashed back, like Nakoa was on the virge of laughter but not quite there. "And a handsome one you are," he replied, hand slipping from Azar's hair as he sat up and sliding appreciately down the Pureblood's geometrically-tattooed chest. About then's where Nakoa lost interest in subtler flirting.

The Wrean was plenty flexible, a rumbling exhalation leaving his lips as Azar meshed smoothly against him, scents comingling again with sweat above it all. Nakoa leaned into it, hands wandering freely down the Sith's figure and muscular back to pull him in like Charybdis sinking ships beneath the sea. They explored every difference, sharp spurs and angles of muscle, felt the claws of three-fingered hands as they pawed and gripped without restraint.

The Wrean's fanged maw opened and, ever so delicately, harmlessly stole away the translator in Azar's ear. All throughout words rumbled, purred, and growled into that ear, teeth grazing carefully along carmine skin. What Singh said wouldn't be translated, but Azar would get the meaning all the same. He swam within a lake of flaming desire and breathed it in, basking in Korriban's blazing sun.

Afterward, Nakoa was content to lay tiredly and half-lidded beneath Azar's warmth, the cool night breeze from the window contrasting the retreating heat within them both. A hand had returned to Azar's hair, idly toying with the mess it'd become. His EzPod had been safely placed on the windowsill. His eyes opened and followed the Sith as he moved to the bed's edge.

Singh flexed to sit up and stretch both neck and shoulders, joints popping, then passed Azar his translator. "If they can't track, we'll find them," he stated decisively, before checking out the window. It'd been hours and the Trandoshans still hadn't shown up. They hopped off the bed, stretched again much like a rather self-satisfied cat, and then retrieved two water battles. One was lightly tossed in Azar's direction after a noise to get his attention.

"Should shower first." He also pointed at Azar's bandaged arm which was, put plainly, no longer sterile.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

“We?” Azar asked with a smirk, taking the proffered EZPod. Thankfully they were waterproof. Whoever this Ezra Thorne was he was a genius for coming up with these. The Pureblood rose and stretched, his muscles flexing before he stepped off to the shower. If Singh wanted to join, Azar didn’t mind whatsoever. He stepped out eventually, dressed in only pants to allow the other man to rebandage the wound. Unsurprisingly, it looked slightly worse than before on account of having no actual rest.

“Tell me about bird,” He asked out of the blue. Questions about the bird were sidestepped, but he wondered if it might yield a different response this time. He was Sith from birth and his religion believed in fate and destiny. That bird had him believing in it and he wanted to consider all the angles that took him to Singh. Why was it so easy to confide in the man? Azar almost detested himself for it. Sleeping together had been exhilarating, but it always took far more than that for the Pureblood to ever reveal even a sliver of himself to an outsider.

After he was bandaged up again, he finally put the rest of his clothing on, “Know where start?” He asked Singh about the Trandoshans. Without that worthlessly fake informant, he was entirely unfamiliar in this city. While a part of him despised the idea of sharing the profits from the Trandoshans, a greater part of him was driven by curiosity to see how Singh operated. He had an entirely different origin with the Force and its uses, and Azar wanted to observe it in action.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

A brow slightly rose. "We made a deal, yes?" he amusedly replied. Had Azar expected him to back out once it took a little real effort? Singh joined Azar in the shower with little fanfare. Whether intimate or not, he had no shame or shyness with bared skin or close quarters.

The Wrean dried himself- moisturizer was also required, given his aquatic nature- and he slipped some pants on before working on bandages. His gaze lingered briefly on the burn wound before he reapplied a bacta spray and started wrapping anew. "Just a bird," he replied, pausing briefly as he considered that probably wasn't what Azar was asking. "Spy of mine. See through its eyes. Watching Trandoshans, found you by chance." Much more fun and interesting.

Nakoa's demeanor didn't discourage more questions, although he was focused on a task and stopped talking. Aside the bandages, the task revealed itself at the windowsill with a "Kraa!" The bird in question had returned, fluttering onto Singh's shoulder after he slipped on the rest of his clothes. It hopped about to face Azar. Nakoa turned and tilted his head slightly, and the bird mirrored the motion, staring at Azar with one eye. It flashed amber-gold.

Singh smirked. "See? Crows are clever." His eyes stared out the window for a few, short moments after Azar's question of where to start. "Did that gutter rat say anything useful?" Nakoa asked in return, leaning down to pull a notebook and pen from the pile that'd been tossed from the desk to make room for Azar.

"Know they're Red Eclipse. Locations, place names?" He started writing something down. "Trandoshans like simple traps. How attached are you to your coat?" Singh pointed to Azar's hooded, leather affair.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

“We did..” Azar responded, unable to hold back the faint grin. He had, in fact, expected Singh to bail because things got more difficult. For a moment he watched in silence as the other applied copious amounts of moisturizer. Azar had felt how different his skin was, but this display suggested that there were vulnerabilities that came with being a Wrean that Singh didn’t mention. And yet he shared this vulnerability in front of Azar. The Pureblood said nothing of it, simply noting the gesture.

He watched Singh take out a notepad and pen. Azar stared at that for far longer than seemed normal, and he knew Singh would catch that. The Pureblood didn’t know how to read Basic and it was a constant hindrance to his survival in this galaxy. While there were millions of translators and transcribed texts, Ancient Sith wasn’t something displayed anywhere.

“Before he trick me, he say they usually..dees..deestict…15,” He said slowly, unable to pronounce the word district, “And I hear the people. They say trando problem in city near there,” It wasn’t too specific, but it was the only tidbit he had from the useless crook. Hopefully Singh knew the area well enough to know what the hell District 15 was.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

The Wrean did, in fact, notice. And he noticed Azar noticing that Singh would notice. He noted that, though not in the notebook. A subtle smirk curved the corner of ring-pierced lips. Singh didn't much bail on deals, bad for business. He was curiously interested. Maybe it had to do with being someone raised away from the rest of the humanocentric galaxy trying to survive all on their own. Either way, he simply didn't feel like kicking Azar out of a bed with an 'Okay good luck'. Nakoa was having fun.

"District 15," he repeated while noting that down. "That's-" His eyes briefly rolled up and to the right, bringing an image up in his head. "Industrial, near the docks." More pen-scratching, then he rotated the notebook until both it and the clock- still on the floor- were visible to him. "Let's go see, yes?" His shoulder lifted and the crow fluttered off and out the window. From a wall hook the Wrean retrieved a cloak-like jacket and slipped it on before quickly confining his hair into a tight bun behind his head.

"No trouble. To Basic eínai mia geloía glóssa kai dýskoli stin ekmáthisi." The EzPods would translate Tethysian Common well enough, which he spoke much more quickly than Basic, but it clearly wasn't basic. Particularly with the flanged undertones his voice took on. Nakoa flipped his notepad around. It wasn't the aurebesh script Azar would see on every sign, but instead, Tethysian: Περιοχή δεκαπέντε. Μάρτυρες κάνουν λόγο για προβλήματα ερπετών. And on like that, further down.

Singh grinned, then pointed to a cramped-looking closet door with his pen. "Borrow a jacket. Might recognize yours." Inside was a hooded sweatshirt and a hooded bomber jacket. From the look of them, they hadn't been worn in a while. Once they were all set up they'd head down the stairs and out the front, passing through the much emptier club and bar, and pile into a speeder truck to head to District 15 in the dead of night.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

The docks tracked with what he heard some of the locals saying about trandoshans transporting goods on ships. Azar found Singh's language curious, and it flowed far smoother from his lips than Basic. The Pureblood stepped forth to inspect the writing in the notepad. Azar took the pen briefly and wrote out his name in ur’kittat. Azar did so effortlessly, and he wouldn’t know how significant this may be to someone like Singh that had Sith teachings. Ancient Sith was an intensely studied and elusive language, and for millennia the Sith Order attempted to make sense of it. And here Azar scribbled it on a notebook without a second thought.

The Pureblood studied the closet interior, gazing at the sweatshirt and jacket. Azar hadn’t even thought about being recognized on account of his face being a problem to begin with. A faint smirk graced his lips as he briefly looked at Singh again before taking the jacket. It was slightly bigger on him, but contrasted nicely against his skin.

Before they left, Azar took a moment to press Singh back against a wall behind him, kissing him for a long moment before breaking away again, “In case I cannot do again,” Azar said with a playful grin before finally descending down the stairs.

Once they were out, the same withdrawn demeanor Azar had at first returned. He was alert, observant and back to his methodical manner of operating. It was late night and distant sirens could be heard. Drunken singing resounded nearby and people were stumbling out of bars and clubs as the duo made their way towards District 15.

The wind brushed through his hair and he gazed out at the city blurring by. He was still not entirely used to these modern vehicles, but he found them fascinating. Azar briefly glanced over at Singh, watching the way his long strands of hair danced with the wind and the calm resolve that set over him again.

They arrived a few moments later and Azar stepped out. There were factories and low quality housing crammed together on top of each other. People could be heard shouting at one another, doors were slamming and homeless individuals lined every street.

“You go back?” He asked after a moment, “To Wrea?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

While Azar picked a jacket, a brow inquisitively raised as Singh flipped their notes back around. His eyes widened as symbols he vaguely recognized showed themselves. They were stylized like any handwriting would be, unlike those carved on temple walls or printed in ancient texts. It wasn't solely a matter of Sith teachings.

To a dedicated scholar like Singh, a living signature in Ur-Kittat was a gift, even if Azar didn't know the significance to him. When Azar glanced back at him he'd closed the notebook and was slipping it into his coat. He didn't need to know that Nakoa often destroyed his work notes after making them. Their little linguistic cultural exchange seemed rather sweet to him.

As he turned he suddenly found himself against the wall, warm lips pressed against his. Azar would feel the brush of fangs from Singh grinning into it and an arm against his shoulder just for the moment before it passed by. Mischief glinted in the Wrean's eyes after the Sith's comment. "Sure you will. I did get your autograph," he teased back on the way out.

Nakoa's demeanor shifted toward business in the truck, full RBF in place, eyes observing the city that passed them by. On arrival he raised his coat's hood and glanced over at Azar, a hand reacher over to lightly tug the other man's hood just a little further down. "Not yet. Still more work yet," they answered the Sith's question automatically. A pause.

"At least once a year, though. Hope to see the ocean?" Nakoa wasn't sure what question Azar, after a moment's consideration, so he just sort of answered both guesses. "You visit home?" Singh glanced around the haphazard district street as he spoke, head cocked as if he was listening for something.

After a few seconds, they strode to move past an alley where homeless folk had gathered around a pile of newspapers burning in a metal barrel. "Spare credits, sir? Lost me legs, you see..." wheezed a haggard, middle-aged man, his pant legs terminating unevenly around stumps. Nakoa's adopted a sympathetic look as he stopped.

"Sure," the Wrean said, dropping a few little coins into the man's hands. "How'd it happen?" "Them damn slavin' lizards, that's what!" There was a tale of woe involving a local law officer standing up for a Twi'lek and getting his legs torn off for the trouble. Adopting a conspiratorial look, Nakoa motioned for the man to lean in and leaned down himself. The Force flowed subtly from him over the homeless man, like water at high tide. "I've heard they're planning to catch a hundred more this week, even a visiting prince. " Then Singh stood up, placed a finger over his lips at the homeless man's grumbling indignation, and kept walking further into the district.

The homeless man would forget the duo's faces the moment they walked out of sight, but he wouldn't forget what Singh had said. Never underestimate the local beggars when it came to getting a rumor out. Most wouldn't take them seriously, but it might just draw out some Trandoshan attention.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

The translator didn’t have a word for autograph so he understood it as autobiography. There was a brief look of confusion on his face, but he shrugged it off. They were walking through the streets when Singh asked if he hoped to see the ocean. Azar chuckled to himself, “What, you take me there?” He teased. In truth, the thought of the ocean terrified him. He couldn’t comprehend such a vast, massive body of water that could swallow everything in its wake.

Azar observed Singh speak with the homeless, only making out half of what happened. The two walked through the docks until Azar spotted it - a large body of water. It was a lake, but it made him nervous nonetheless. The pureblood froze in place, eyeing the water warily. They needed to cross through a dock right on the edge of the water to get closer to where the Trandoshans were reported.

“Perhaps..only you go..” He muttered, trying to contain his deep discomfort. That plan made no sense because it was Azar that needed the credits from turning trandoshans in.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Singh huffed with amusement, the sound turning into low, quiet chuckles. "Maybe a beach first. Just for the shorts." Yes, they could picture Azar in swim shorts. And he did, smirking to himself. Still, something felt vaguely off when Azar said it, though the Wrean couldn't pinpoint what it was over the background noise of the city and it wasn't in his nature to prod. Which is why he didn't comment on the Pureblood passing over Nakoa's question about visiting home.

Amber-gold eyes stared out over the small body of water, the strong scents of dock water and ships so different from the crisp, salty smells of the endless sea. Then there was the feeling again as Azar spoke The Wrean turned to consider the other man, eyes cautious on the black, glistening surface of the lake and body language stiffer than even a few moments ago. Their eyebrows lowered into a pensive expression, and there were two slow seconds where the only sounds were lapping water and late-night city life.

Nakoa's arm wound around the terrified Sith's shoulders, squeezing gently. "No trouble," he said softly but sure as his other hand reached up to pull down Azar's hood until it completely covered his eyes. "This won't stop us. Walk with me." Singh took a single step forward, loud enough for Azar to hear his leather boot on the ground. He did not pull him along. Instead, he waited.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar despised this. He despised showing any kind of vulnerability. He had done it now on multiple occasions - first showing up with a wound and now this. He was rooted in place, gripped by fears he knew were silly. His entire people had reservations about oceans or seas, and this wasn’t even that- it was a lake. To his surprise, Singh returned and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Azar wanted to slip out of his grip and out of that vulnerable and embarrassing role. However, he looked over at Singh. There was no smug look Singh’s face, no snide remark, no knowing smile.

“All right..” Azar said quietly as he leaned closer against Singh, the hood covering his eyes. He took slow steps forth, still in Singh’s grip. He felt like a child, but he was making progress. Fortunately, there were no sounds of huge waves, just the gentle lapping of water. The Pureblood’s arm wrapped around Singh’s waist with a vice grip that was almost comical. If Singh tried to push him into the water, they were both going down, he told himself. The logic was stupid considering Singh’s anatomy.

After what felt like a century, they finally made it to the other side. Azar slowly pulled away, drawing the hood back to glance back at the path he just crossed. He looked at Singh, several different comments coming to mind, but he was too embarrassed to say anything at all.

“What do you mean a prince?” A man’s voice could be heard. The rumors were already flying and whispers began to spread about a prince visiting the docks. The details were made up on the spot and evolved through the rumor mill. At last, the prince was going to supposedly arrive at a warehouse on this side of the docks. Singh’s little play had worked out and it was only a matter of time before the Trandoshans showed up here.

“How we transport them?” Azar asked curiously. It occurred to him that he wasn’t sure what to do when he actually captured one.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Azar's grip around the Wrean's waist was iron-tight and close as they strode slowly forward. Step by step along the waterside. Nakoa didn't try to baby the Pureblood about it nor shove him forward. It wasn't beyond Singh that Azar was highly vulnerable in his fear or that he was being trusted with it, however warily. It was a further extension of their ongoing exchange, from Force sensitivity to birds and drinks, language, and names.

Singh's touch subtly lingered for a moment as the two slipped slowly apart again, their gaze ahead, head cocked to listen. Even as Azar stared at them they apparently had nothing to say about what just happened. Amber-golds glanced sideways at the Sith. Nakoa thought he might be even redder than usual, it was hard to tell.

After listening to the semi-distant voice around a corner, a glimmer of mischief shone in the Wrean's eyes. Not too bad for last-minute bait. Singh turned to look at Azar, then beyond him out over the lake and its floating ships along the dockways. "Stuff them in crates? We bring the truck around," he suggested with a shrug, turning away from the ships and instead looking around for hiding places.

Singh snuck further from the water toward a pile of worn plasteel crates and barrels to crouch behind. There he squatted down to sit on his heels and pulled out the notebook again. Nakoa flipped through the pages and then meticulously tore the top of one particular page, folded it neatly, and placed it safely away in a coat pocket. Then the coat came off to lay in a messy pile on the ground.

"Skins intact, yes?" Nakoa asked for confirmation while rolling up his sleeves, recalling Azar's previous mention of boots. He assumed it'd been meant literally. Knuckles tapped against one of the barrels. "Factory chemicals," he said with a sly smirk, reading unfamiliar chemical names off the aurebesh labels as best he could. It was all basically poison, especially inhaled. He also remembered the enhanced drinks at the bar. Nakoa glanced over at him.

"To ónomá mou eínai Nakoa Singh," the Wrean told him before writing something in his notebook.

Eventually, with enough patient waiting, the sounds of heavy reptilian footfalls would echo along the dockway walls. Unfortunately for them, their sense of smell was ruined by the docks and, frankly, the thorough showering the duo had gone through. Azar and Nakoa were flawlessly hidden.

@Sreeya

Spoiler: Trandoshan Perception

1d20 = 1/20, absolute goddamn garbage

 

[Darth Arcanos]

If Singh hoped to see a lightbulb moment from Azar when he discovered the poison vats, he would be disappointed. As an acolyte new in the galaxy, he had limited skills with poisons and certainly couldn’t conjure something from items and chemicals he didn’t understand. The Trandoshans appeared soon enough and Azar nodded to Singh’s question about intact skin. He wondered if they technically needed to keep them alive to get high quality skin.

Azar watched two of them walk in. While Singh probably expected some intricate use of alchemy, Azar instead used the Force to bodily throw both Trandoshans hard enough against the opposite wall to knock them out. If Singh looked at him, he simply gave a vague shrug before rushing over to bind the arms and legs. The two had to work quickly to hoist the Trandoshans away to transport them to the buyer.

The exchange from there on was smooth and without hurdles. Azar was surprised at his own hesitation in parting with Singh. He had several things that came to mind, but he said none of them. Instead, he gave a smile, “Maybe I see ocean..one day…with you, Nakoa Singh,” He articulated very slowly in basic. With that, he bade Singh farewell, knowing it was unlikely they would ever cross paths again.

@Mr. Teatime