Ask Corellia Pastel and Blasters, Anyone?

[Poet Severino]

If there was one thing Poet missed about field work, it was the rush brought about by hunting down the lawless and helping the innocent who were in need. Of course he would deny the latter as much as he would easily admit the former – he had a reputation of being the curmudgeonly rookie (not a rookie anymore, gods be damned) to uphold. Or so that was what his colleagues assumed about him.

The bustling metropolis that was Coronet City greeted him the moment The Dream Walker entered the city's range. The assignment he had been given was simple: go undercover as a dealer while on the hunt for a man called Ymir Gaskarth, a supplier fresh out of Kessel who made a small hideout in Corellia. The supplier's last known location was a hotel called The Pacific, some two-star establishment south of the city near the ports. Recent intel also supplied that Gaskarth was posing as a mechanic at a space port and would often frequent the bar called Snoozing Krayt. Poet was here to corroborate the intels sent on the HQ, and once the confirmation was made then he was to proceed with the undercover route and eventually the arse-kicking– the, ahem, arrrest, he meant.

"Get ready for landing, Skippy. Once we touch down you know what to do, alright? Stay on the kriffing ship, kark's sakes," the Ranger told his companion, scowling ever so slightly when the astromech beeped an affirmative rather cheerfully in response. Not long after his ship was docked in the space port where Gaskarth was said to be working at. It was easy to act so inconspicuous when Poet was already in his own disguise, his hair dyed in a mix of pastel blue and green. He was currently clad in a pastel pink, short-sleeved button up shirt, a pair of tight black pants, and brown suede ankle heeled boots. A full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm completed his incognito look, and while Poet didn't protest at the fake ink on his skin he had been very vocal about the outfit choices given to him by one of his superiors.

He specifically asked for something that wouldn't make him stand out and there she went, giving him a wardrobe full of pastel shite. Why couldn't she give him something that suited him more – and in dark colours? Poet would've dropped the case and let someone else handle it if he hadn't been too excited to finally go back to field duty. He also would've sucked it all up if it weren't for the fact that the mission would have to be a two-men job, and while it would be too damned easy to intimidate whoever the hells he was going to be paired up with, that notion immediately went moot when he was told of his partner-to-be's identity.

Poet easily towered the patrons of the Snoozing Krayt when he entered the bar, the boots giving him an additional two inches in the height department that he didn't really need. Karking hells, he knew he looked silly right now – he sure felt like it, and the amorous gazes he was receiving from both male and female patrons were a little disconcerting. Granted, the bar wasn't packed and the customers were still very few and far in between, but still...

Why in the ever loving kark are these pants fecking tight, for gods' sakes!

Strutting confidently towards the bar – conceal, don't feel, Maker – the Ranger shot the pretty Togrutan bartender a brooding look as he seated himself on one of the bar-stools.

"Iridonian whiskey, two glasses," he told her pale green (contact lenses) gaze briefly scanning the bar. No sight of Gaskarth. Yet. And no sight of his partner, still.

The Togrutan smiled, one brow raised as she poured him the drinks and slid the glasses towards him. "For you alone?"

Poet was quick to down one glass, then the other, before he gestured for the bartender to give him another round.

"The first two? Yeah. These next ones?" he told her, faking a tiny grin that almost came out as a grimace. "They're for my... date."

The Togrutan's sympathetic nod almost made the Ranger groan in defeat. If she was assuming that he was feeling jittery at the prospect of meeting his supposed date, then he was more than a hundred percent sure that Sakas was going to tease the kriff out of him – not just from his outfit but more so his cover-up for having her tag along for the duration of his undercover duties.

@Nefieslab

 

[Sakas Zareen]

Corellia was a great town - terrible enough to get her busy with work but not scummy enough for that crime to ever get into the really shraky stuff. There was smuggling and murder, sure, but it tended to be organised crime stuff more than anything else. Some of the places in the outer and mid rims? That stuff made her blood boil, stuff like trafficking and slavery. The kind of stuff where literally not even the press held it against you if you decided that 'lethal' was the only option when it came to dealing with the punks.

Nah, Corellia tended to be a nice middle ground.

Still, an undercover sting was something she could get behind - what she could not get behind was the clothing she was expected to be wearing. She was going undercover as one of those bounty hunter types and the worst part was that they only seemed to dress in three different ways; mando, leather or catsuit. So, naturally, they decided to fit her with two of the three.

Personally she thought she'd have pulled off the imitation Mando look a lot better than the cross between a hunter and a hooker that they had dressed her up as. Still, Sakas reflected, it could have been worse.

"What the kark did you do to your hair?"

She couldn't help herself but even as she slid up to the bar from behind him, Sakas was grinning wide as she taunted him. They had dressed the kid up well enough but the colors!

"Did you lose a bet or something?"

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Poet Severino]

Of course the first thing she'd notice was the karking state his hair was in. He was dressed rather decently today, and to be honest both of their eyes were still blessedly untainted from the rest of his assigned wardrobe. Didn't mean the teasing simply went sailing past his head, though.

Jaw clenching momentarily as he tried to keep his temper at bay, Poet grabbed one of the glasses that was supposed to be his offering to Sakas and shrugged. He had to keep his cool, he reminded himself. He really didn't need further attention to himself by letting his frayed patience and nerves get the better of him. So, with a simpering grin (more like a grimace, really) as fake as the colours of his hair, the half-Morellian turned on his seat to face Sakas and lifted the glass to his lips.

Any smartass remark his brain came up with did not reach his mouth the moment his gaze found hers – well, more precisely what she was currently wearing. Poet very nearly spat the liquor out as his eyes automatically moved up and down on the Mikkian's form, swallowing the whiskey hard with a flinch. Maybe he was so used to seeing her in her usual work getup, so seeing what she was clad in right now was honestly quite a shock. Not an unpleasant kind of shock, if he was being honest, but a shock nonetheless.

Kark, he could see way too much pink skin.

Well, not as much really; he was just overreacting, but still..!

Poet would have averted his gaze but he knew it would only be another source of teasing material that Sakas would gleefully and mercilessly use against him. He also knew he was probably as red as a Lethan by now but at least he could attribute it to the alcohol in his system. Having recently arrived herself, the Ranger could only hope that he could use being drunk as an excuse for acting like a schoolboy who had seen a woman – and a very attractive one at that – for the first time in his young life.

Drawing on the confidence of the scrappy spice dealer he was supposed to be portraying, Poet locked gazes with Sakas and raised one eyebrow at her. He was determined to keep his eyes on her face and no, he won't even try to look a little lower because he knew he would end up ogling, and the half-Morellian was far from being a pervert to be openly gaping at his partner's state of undress– er, clothing, he meant.

"Hello to you, too, babe." Kark, he should be smiling, shouldn't he? He tried to soften his expression but only managed to turn his scowl into a light frown. Ah, feck it. "Don't like the colours? I can change 'em for ya, if you want."

Unable to help himself (because, really, was he seriously going to let her tease and taunt him without retaliating?), Poet's gaze lowered briefly to give Sakas a once over before dropping a quip or two of his own.

"Who in the ever loving kark dressed you up like that?" he would ask the Mikkian in a whisper, brows furrowed but his eyes alight with mischief. "They trying to make you look like a cross between a bounty hunter and a hooker?"

Then, blunt as ever (it would probably end up being the cause of his death someday, but, eh), he made a gesture with his hands to his chest and added, "That top's not uncomfortable, is it? Looks a little tight around–" he made the gesture again, this time pressing his palms to his chest "–this part right here, if you ask me."

He knew he would likely be receiving a fist to his face for that last comment but he just couldn't help taunting her back. Any other Ranger in their right mind who knew him would keep their thoughts about his current appearance to themselves, but Sakas?

Well, it was honestly refreshing to have someone taunt and tease him without a care for his trademark irascibility. He just hoped that she wouldn't end up killing him if his answering quips got too far. If she didn't kill him right now, that is.

@Nefieslab

 

[Sakas Zareen]

She wanted to roll her eyes but she resisted the urge through sheer force of will, instead focusing on trying not to look like she wanted to punch the rookie for his wandering eyes. He was already playing his role as a scummy spice dealer well because she already wanted to have a long shower just from being near him. Honestly she wouldn’t have guessed the kid could come across quite so scummy until this precise moment.

Good undercover work – bad for his chances of avoiding a punch to the kidneys though.

“Oh honey I wouldn’t ask you to change for me.” She joked right back with a wink, “Makes spotting you through a sniper’s scope so much easier.”

Lowering her own voice, she reached out to take the drink. As she did that with one hand, she leaned in closer. To an outsider it would look like she was leaning in to flirt with him but she did her best to make sure he didn’t think that for a single second. Her free hand rested against his thigh and she twisted her wrist, the hidden blade popping out and stopping just shy of him.

Once part of him in particular.

“If any pictures of this end up on the Ranger group chats, even the ‘private’ ones?” She smiled at him, “I won’t pull my hand back next time – and you’ll be sitting down to pee for life.”

Twisting her wrist, the hidden blade retracted and she straightened, taking a drink. She groaned a little bit both at the teasing and the terrible alcohol.

“Someone in the Corellian office thinks female bounty hunters dress like this. Dumbasses.”

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Poet Severino]

It wasn't his habit to stare as if it was the first time he had ever seen a woman, but he couldn't resist glancing at Sakas every now and again. She hid it well but Poet could still feel the increasing violent intent in the air. It meant two things: one, that he was playing his role rather well, and; two, that he had to avert his gaze this instant or else the physical threat to his person would soon bear fruit.

The half-Morellian raised a brow at her joke, amusement gleaming in his currently pale green eyes.

"Huh," he murmured, watching as she leaned in closer towards him. Naturally, Poet leaned away a little, but the hand on his thigh gave him pause, gaze shifting down at it then at Sakas whose smile seemed so sharp it could cut through transparisteel. The sound of hissing steel made his ears twitch slightly, and he didn't need to look down to confirm that a blade was concealed on her sleeve.

With her hand on his thigh, it was obvious where she was aiming the blade, and boy did she not need to verbally threaten him. Not really. Poet should be giving her the same warning about his own photos but his mouth seemed to be intent on staying shut than listening to his brain's command to speak.

The younger Ranger swallowed audibly, pupils blown wide in surprise at the verbal threat as the words finally sunk in. His gaze lingered on Sakas's face, watching quietly as she retreated and took the glass of whiskey meant for her. She was clearly more experienced than him, and not once did he doubt her skills with a blade. Poet knew for a fact that she could turn her threat into actions, and he wouldn't even dream of trying to cross the line when she explicitly warned him.

He was intimidated, rightfully so, and there was no shame in admitting that. He would love to walk out of this bar completely, and utterly whole, thank you very much. But–

Face turning red, Poet hid the smirk that was threatening to cross his lips with the back of his hand. A snort escaped him, which soon escalated into loud, unbridled laughter. He could not decide which reason he'd choose for his sudden amusement – the threat to his good 'self', the fact that he wasn't even bothering to check the Ranger group chats nor did he have anyone to send her photos privately, or her explanation as to why she was dressed like a hooker-slash-bounty hunter?

His shoulders shook a little violently as his palm struck the wooden counter while his other hand quickly flew to his mouth to stifle his laughter. Maker, when was the last time he laughed like this? No, scratch that – when was the last time someone made him laugh?

"Sorry, 'm not laughing at you, I swear," he assured her in between chuckles, rubbing his arm over his eyes. Poet allowed himself one last snicker before gesturing at Sakas's clothing. "They may have been dumbasses, but at least you look intimidating with that outfit. I mean, compared to you I look like a fecking cotton candy. No one's gonna be scared of this–" he lifted a hand to ruffle his fringe "–stupid shite."

The Ranger ordered another round of drinks and glanced over his shoulder to check if their target had already made an appearance. No luck so far... which, he guessed he could use the time to discuss about with Sakas.

"Gaskarth's still no show. He wasn't in the spaceport when I came here, but it doesn't mean that intel's got the info about him working there is incorrect, and vice versa. But he could walk in through the door any moment now. So, did the office fill you in on our target? Just want to check if they gave you any additional info than the ones they gave me," he asked her, voice low as he leaned close in a show of trying to be more than chummy with his supposed date. Gods somewhere up above, he hated acting so sleazy but he couldn't exactly complain about the role he was assigned to play. Gaskarth was known to be real scummy towards attractive females, and one of the ways to gain the bastard's trust was to act like him. Intel claimed that the dealer was drawn to people like him... which was so messed up in every sense now that Poet was thinking about it.

Maker, the half-Morellian felt disgusted with himself already. What more if the target finally showed up?

"I'm going to have to apologize in advance, Sakas," he muttered to her in warning. "Once the target shows up, I... well, I'm going to have to act scummier than I already am."

@Nefieslab

 

[Sakas Zareen]

Poet was lucky that Sakas was the kind of person who could joke around otherwise she might have punched him already. But she wasn’t that kind of person – she was the kind of person who could shrak-talk with the best of them and the kid was ten years too early if he thought he could out-talk her. That shrak-talking played into both of their cover identities was just a happy little co-incidence as far as she was concerned.

She was still slightly put out when the young man started laughing though. That he seemed to be laughing in the face of her threat made her want to suddenly give the laughing young man a reason to believe her but she held off. Stabbing co-workers was officially against Ranger guidelines – it probably said something about the Rangers as an organisation that that was specified as against protocol.

In the end though she just rolled her eyes and removed her hand, the blade hidden again as she took a drink before ordering more from the bartender.

“Cotton candy eh?” She smirked ever so slightly, “Careful, kid, or else I’ll start thinking you have something against the color pink.”

Which was, after all, her skin tone.

Gaskarth not showing up just yet was exactly what she expected from the undercover assignment if she was honest. The holovids liked to make it look like being undercover was a constant adrenaline rush of being nearly caught and double crosses. Hurry up and wait was something she had learned in the local defense forces and something that worked very well in the Rangers as well no matter what anyone said.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” She did her best to reassure him while outwardly not changing her demeanor toward him at all, “Things like this take time more than they take skill… give it enough time and even the most amazingly prepared criminal slips up. And that’s what we’re waiting for.”

And they always did.

The doors to the cantina opened, their mark stepping in with a small group of people hanging around him. There was laughter from the doors and Sakas nodded with her chin.

"Our target just walked in with some friends."

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Poet Severino]

He didn't smile much – kark knew how many muscles he needed to move to do so and it hurt his face – but the one he gave Sakas was close to genuine in return to her playful comment. Poet shrugged, tipping his empty glass on the table and leaning towards her once more to tease her back.

"No need to be careful, actually. Cotton candies come in many colours, such as the state of my hair right now," he responded with a wink, one elbow carefully nudging her arm. He added, equal parts teasing and sincere, "And contrary to popular belief, I kinda like pink. But only because of you, Zareen."

Of course it was also his sister's favourite colour, but there's no need to bring up sad stuff to work, right? And besides, the half-Morellian thought that it was something Sakas really didn't need to hear. His personal life was something he felt uncomfortable sharing with others, not for the fact that he was a private person but more so because he had forgotten basically half of his life after cracking his skull as well as the issues he had with his Dad. Yep, definitely something he shouldn't casually broadcast out in the open.

Her assurance had an unexpected effect. Instead of simply taking it in stride, Poet felt calmed by her words. Perhaps it was because of the way she spoke, so unlike the other senior Rangers who felt it important and cool to act all sage-like and painfully experienced while they gave the rookies advice. The Mikkian was both calm and casual, and he'd honestly take those than the I'm-more-experienced-than-you shit some senior Rangers seemed to like rubbing on both juniors and rookies' face alike.

Poet wordlessly nodded his thanks, and glanced over his shoulder at her report. The Ranger allowed a brief grimace to cross his face as he shifted his focus back on his glass. The Togrutan bartender returned, frowning at Gaskarth and his friends, before pouring another round of whiskey for the two Rangers.

Muttering a quiet "thanks" and downing his drink, Poet popped open the top three buttons of his shirt, a tiny tattoo (as fake as the ink on his arm, but just as realistic) of the Pyke Syndicate peeking just shy of his exposed skin. He really should give the people at the Corellian office a sound beating – he didn't think he'd need said tattoo as another layer for his cover-up but, maaaaan. It might have been small, but it was as subtle as a rampaging rancor. What a drag.

Poet rose from his seat.

"Alright, sweetheart." He fought the cringe that threatened to cross his face. His Mum would have his hide for sounding so lewd when he spoke the word. "It's showtime."

Fake, smug smile and a cocky tilt of his hip to the side in place, the half-Morellian would take Sakas by the hand to pull her up to her feet. One arm would wrap around her waist, and his hand would settle on her hip while also making sure that his palm was on her clothes and not her skin. It was more instinctual than a conscious action, the respect his parents taught him drilled too deeply in his mind that it came out naturally than a conscious decision he had to make. Should Sakas begin to play along, Poet would pull her closer, expecting her to flirtatiously place her hands wherever she liked (alright, not wherever) and would lead her to Gaskarth and his buddies who settled themselves on a booth on the far end of the cantina.

The younger Ranger's persona did a complete 180. His surly demeanour was replaced by a smug young man who smiled easily and who flirted like a bumbling teenager, but the charming grin seemed to make up for it. Poet Severino was gone, and in his place stood Reggie, a Pyke Syndicate scoundrel who was on his first big run as a spice dealer.

"Hey there, boys and girl," he would greet the five, his focus solely on Gaskarth. To the target, he would casually say, "Fancy a round of Rancor Blood? Heard it's nice to drink after a day's hard work."

Poet dutifully added whoever thought of that code to be recognized by the target to his list of 'People I'd Kark Up So Hard They'd Be Spittin' Their Teeth Out'. Perhaps Gaskarth was lamer for it as he would answer the undercover Ranger's question with a sly, approving wink. It would be easy to get along for now, but for the rest of the job?

"Nah, bud. Spicy noodles does the job," the supplier replied in an eerily cheerful manner, one arm slung around the attractive Zygerrian attached to his side. "Have a seat, friend. Make room for Mister Pastel and his very attractive companion–" bright blue eyes would rake over Sakas's form, Gaskarth's grin turning licentious "–you a-holes. C'mon!"

Mister Pastel?

Tough it out, man. Conceal, don't feel.

As his companions complied, Gaskarth would gesture for the two Rangers to sit. Reggie might have been smirking on the outside, but Poet very much liked to bash the bastard's head in for the way he looked at his colleague. To think that the half-Morellian would need to match that disgusting behaviour...

A nice, long shower was in order after this day ended.

@Nefieslab

 

[Sakas Zareen]

Poet was going to be even more insufferable in some ways because he was playing the role of his undercover persona – and the people worth going undercover as tended to be the biggest bellends on whatever planet they happened to be on. Well, that had been her own experiences with undercover. Might just be that they wanted to give her the most terrible assignments as undercover operatives because they thought they suited her personality better.

If that was the case she was going to have to prove them right by beating the living snot out of them in the near future. Still, he wasn’t planning on beating the snot out of Poet so the kid had best consider himself lucky. She snorted in amusement.

“Keep your compliments to yourself kid – you might need to sweet talk yourself out of a tight spot today but it won’t be against me.”

That Poet actually looked over his shoulder at the newcomers when she pointed them out was something she would bring up to him in the future. Half the skill required when on undercover missions was to look without actually looking – see them in the reflection of the bottles against the bar or out of the corner of the eye while looking at something else. She would make sure she didn’t come down too hard on the kid though since the target wasn’t supposed to be trained in anti-surveillance techniques or the like.

Of course when he popped his collar and opened his shirt, her gaze followed and she couldn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes it felt really obvious because she knew it was an undercover op… and sometimes it actually just was really obvious. She seriously hoped it was one of the first types rather than the second.

Time to play the role of eye-candy… ugh she was going to need a shower after this but she didn’t visibly react. Instead she plastered on a smile like she was enjoying the whole experience and made sure she was moving her hips while they walked. Enough that even these morons would be able to pick up on what she was doing. Already she wanted to pull out her stun pistol and stun the shite out of the supplier but, well, that wasn’t the plan.

They would use patience and time to give the man enough rope to hang himself with.

“Elief.” She introduced herself with a bright smile and a slight head tilt, “Any friend of Pasty is a friend of mine.”

If she was going to be treated like arm candy she was going to use it to give Poet a bit of a hard time because it was funny. Nothing to harm the investigation but still.

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Poet Severino]

Pasty?

He knew he should have seen that coming from a mile away, so he could remind himself not to bark out any answering retort. Pale green gaze shifted from the target to 'Elief' as Poet slid down the booth, guiding her down with him. Once settled, the half-Morellian threw one arm over the backseat, his posture lax as the goons settled for standing behind him and his fellow Ranger. Another grin spread across Poet's lips as he made a show of leaning closer to Sakas.

"Elief? Lovely name for a lovely woman," Gaskarth commented, reaching one hand out for a handshake. Should Sakas take the proferred hand, the target would lean forward to press a kiss on the back of her hand instead of the intended shake. "Well, I'm sure we'll all get along nicely, won't we?" he told her with a wink. Gaskarth wouldn't linger, however, and went back to his seat to regard Poet with a curious smile.

"You must be that dealer from Coruscant who wanted a meetup, eh? Reggie or somethin'?"

"Yep. Reggie Klied, at your service," the half-Morellian replied rather friendlily. "The smuggler you've been paying got herself arrested by the local Rangers over there. Sucks to be in her position. Had to pay someone in prison to off her so she wouldn't be able to..." he made talking gestures with his hand and shrugged. "Got word from the boss to just get the supplies myself." With a conspiratorial grin, Poet leaned forward and added in a whisper, "Not to brag or anythin', but me and Elief here? We make a good team. Wouldn't be noticed by the boss if we ain't good at karking Rangers up. We keep souvenirs as well, look."

As if to prove his claim, Poet reached for something in his pocket and waved it at Gaskarth's face briefly but long enough for the target to see the scuffed Ranger badge. The supplier's eyes widened as he followed the badge with his greedy gaze until the half-Morellian pocketed one of his 'spoils' once again.

(No need for Gaskarth to know that it was Poet's own badge, scuffed on purpose to get that banged up look, right?)

"You're killing Rangers?!" Gaskarth whispered back with surprised disbelief, looking terribly amused at the claim.

Reggie shrugged rather bashfully before laying his head on Elief's shoulder. "Well, my baby right here actually does more of the heavy lifting. What's our tally again, darling? Three by my hands, five by yours?"

A low whistle slipped past the target's lips as his friends shared impressed looks. It took every ounce of Poet's willpower to stop himself from clenching his jaw in anger at their obvious delight at having met supposed Ranger killers.

"That's kriffing impressive, man," the target commented with a laugh. "Maker, you have to take me with you next time you're ganking those bastards. Kark, I'm getting goosebumps just by thinking about it!" Gaskarth chuckled, his buddies following after him, before he continued. "Anyway, my friends, back to business. It does suck that Ashie got herself locked up, but you did well in silencing her–"

That, of course, was a lie the target ate up without question just because he's faced with Ranger killers. Poet counted that as a small victory, but him and Sakas haven't really cleared all the obstacles yet.

"–so she won't get a chance to talk. Nice save, Reg. Nice save."

It was Gaskarth's turn to take something out of his own pocket. It was a scrap of paper with a name scrawled on it in messy Aurebesh. "But that won't be enough, no. I have a job for you and your hot lady over here before I hand off the goods. You guys up for killing your next Ranger? This bastard Trandoshan's been a kriffing thorn to my side ever since I arrived here."

The target's smile turned sharp and malicious.

"You two up for it or nah?"

Maker, this son of a kriffer was making Poet's blood boil with rage. It was only his repeated mental reminder to himself that he needed to keep this karking charade going if they wanted Gaskarth apprehended, to prevent himself from dropping the bastard across him right kriffing now. Instead he grinned widely before shifting on his seat to look at Sakas like a little kid on Life Day.

"Please say yes, Els, pretty please?" he implored childishly. Truth be told he was cringing on the inside, but anything to get the job done, right? Even if it meant acting like a total fool for the remainder of the op. But after all these?

Gaskarth would wish he didn't meet Pasty and Els.

@Nefieslab