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Karath

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Still on Tattooine. The repair guy had said his ship would take four days to fix… Two weeks ago. From what he could get out of the old Ithorian, the blaster impacts had sent a back-charge through the electrical system and fried the power converters. It would take longer to fix than he’d thought, and the price would be double.

Rather than use the rest of his credits on a room in whatever accommodations Mos Eisley had to offer, he slept on one of the two meager bunks in his IFST-17 Light Courier, the Icewind. He didn’t have much to pass the time other than a couple of bars nearby, occasional holonet feeds. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and he had some sense that it wasn’t just the booze. Strange dreams of snowy places, memories of his birthworld he thought he’d buried.

An opportunity had presented itself, though. An overheard conversation in one dingy bar had brought him an offer. Shady as hell, no doubt, but he wasn’t picky. In the absence of criminals to apprehend, or criminals he felt he could apprehend, there was always smuggling. On someone else’s ship, this time, but he couldn’t be picky.

Ol’ reliable, he thought of his frequent side-gig, sitting atop one of the bunks in his ship, idly flipping the safety on and off his EE-3 blaster pistol. He sat it aside for the moment, staring at his webbed, clawed hands. They were shaking again. He’d been hitting the bottle too hard, even he would admit. He’d better get past it, he had a meeting in… Fak I’m already late.

He slammed the blaster into his leg holster, tossing on his green blast jacket as he made towards the exit ramp.

—------------------------------

The place where he was to meet the pilot was another bar, not the famed Mos Eisley Cantina, but a smaller one, darker, dirtier. Something about the place made the fur stand up on the back of his neck. There was nobody there save for the bartender droid, a cylindrical machine with four arms.

A cautious hand drifting near the blaster on his leg, he approached the bar.

“Whiskey,” he said. He’d heard a human say once, “Whiskey is for business,” a rule he’d stuck by. For all their oddities, in Karath’s opinion, humans made the best booze.

He sat down at the bar, drinking slowly, waiting for his contact to appear.
 

Zaia Krodas

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“Keep an eye on the cargo, would you?” Zaia put on her helmet as she passed by BG. The droid chirped a response, following close behind her as she flipped a switch. “No, you won’t have to worry about pirates. I’ll be back soon.” As the ramp lowered, she bent down to give her droid an affectionate pat on the head, gently pushing him in the direction of the cargo bay before glancing out at the desert town. She was due to meet a contact at a nearby cantina, and time was already running short. Whoever had hired her had been vague with who this other person was supposed to be, not even giving her a name, but she’d find out who it was soon enough.

After a short trip, Zaia had arrived at a small, sketchy-looking building— even by Tatooine’s standards. There didn’t look to be anyone around, so she shrugged to herself and headed inside. The interior was even more desolate. Aside from the bartender droid, there was only one being inside the bar, a Selonian wearing a green blast jacket. Was this who she was supposed to meet?

Zaia took a seat on a barstool to the right of the Selonian, still not taking off her helmet. The bartender droid turned to her expectantly, and she drummed her left hand on the counter as she thought about the options. Eh, might as well keep it simple.

“Just water will do.” The droid whirred around, pouring the liquid into a cup before sliding it over to her. She caught it in her palm, but didn’t drink from it just yet. Instead, she turned to the Selonian beside her, her right hand resting close to her blaster.

“Quiet today, isn’t it?” she commented, looking at him from behind her visor.

@Karath Nikolas
 

Karath

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Ah hell its a Mandalorian, Karath thought as his contact approached the bar. He didn't like doing business with beings whose faces he couldn't see. They were often so cold in a way that made Karath a little uncomfortable. A caste of people who made violence the sole focus of their lives had to have a few screws loose, he had always thought.

A Mandalorian would order water, he thought with a smirk.

"Yup," he said, raising the glass to his lips. He wondered how the woman would manage to drink with her helmet on. "I'm Karath, you the one I'm supposed to meet here?"
 

Zaia Krodas

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Zaia noticed the smirk on the Selonian’s face and frowned for a brief moment behind her helmet. Was there something she didn’t know about that he did? She dispelled the thought after a moment; she’d find out soon.

Seeing that the Selonian didn’t look like he was about to pull out a blaster and shoot her, Zaia took off her helmet and placed it in the countertop a little to the right of where she was sitting. She took a small sip of water before responding and setting the glass down.

“That would depend on what your meeting is for,” she said, tapping the edge of her glass as she turned back to look at the Selonian. “I’ve got a small delivery to make. Know anything about that?” If he didn’t, no big deal, she’d just have to wait a little longer for her real contact to show up, and if he did, well, she was looking for this to be an interesting trip indeed.

@Karath Nikolas
 

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Karath was initially relieved as the Mandalorian removed her helmet. At least she wasn't one of those Mandalorians. But, from what he could tell, this human was just past a kid in age. That wasn't necessarily a bad sign, he'd had plenty of adventures and misandventures at her age, tragedies and triumphs, though perhaps more of the former than the latter. In any case, he didn't have much of a choice of working with her if he ever wanted to get his ship off the miserable rock that was Tattooine.

"I was told it was a delivery, probably illicit by the feeling of the interaction. I don't know anything more. And in case it comes up, yeah, you got me, I'm an ISC ranger. I do my fair share of smuggling, everyone's gotta make ends meet. I'm not a rat."

He took a drink of the whiskey. Real stuff from the taste of it, aged in a barrel somewhere with enough trees to make said barrels. Expensive stuff. He wondered if he would be paying the bill, or if the tab would be on whoever their employer was.

"Let's just get all this over with."
 

Zaia Krodas

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“A Ranger? Doing a job like this?” Zaia arched her eyebrows as she took another sip of her water. That was a first. She couldn’t say she was surprised, though. There were always two sides to a coin, often many more when it came to people. She’d learned that time and time again, in some instances being pleasantly surprised, others not so much.

“I’m with you on that one,” she replied, pulling out a few credits and sliding them over to the droid along with her now-empty glass. “Drinks on me.” She hopped out of the stool and put on her helmet again, turning to face the Selonian. “The ship’s at the nearest landing pad.”

Soon enough the pair had arrived, and as the ramp lowered, Zaia smiled as she saw BG poke his head out.

“Get the ship ready for takeoff. We’ll be on our way soon,” she called over to him, and the droid beeped and rolled away. Once she was on the ramp, she turned back to look at the Selonian. “The cargo’s in the back if you want to take a look. I was told not to open the boxes, so uh, don’t do it, I guess.” She shrugged. “I’ll be in the cockpit if you need me, and, she held up a finger, “don’t try anything. I have lasers that'll burn you to a crisp if you do.” She took off her helmet and grinned at him. “Nah. Just messing with you, mostly. But BG will go with you… just as a precaution.”

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Karath didn't say much as they made the short trek from the shady bar to the landing pad. He briefly admired Zaia's ship. A similar class and size to his, but hers worked, and of that he was envious. He held onto a handhold on the ship's metal ceiling as they climbed out of Mos-Eisley for their short atmospheric hop. It didn't look all that bad from above, he found himself thinking.

As the ship began to cruise he made his way to the cargo hold, the warm, resinous scent of the cargo reaching his nose immediately. Hah, Marcan herb. This stuff is great, hard to find out here. He ran a clawed finger around the lid of one of the metal crates. He looked down to Zaia's droid, its eye-lenses staring blankly at him.

"Come on, now, just a peek," he said. Something seemed odd to him about the cargo. Why even hire a smuggler for this stuff? Authorities out here didn't care about herb, they were looking for spice, weapons, that kind of thing. His employers could have just loaded it all up on a landspeeder and taken it by one of the established desert routes and probably been fine, paid a bribe, worst case. He lifted the lid.

Green bales of Marcan herb, stacked to the top. He lifted one of the bales up and set it aside, eyes widening, a short hiss of surprise escaping him. The face of a young human man looked back at him, all covered in dull-grey carbonite.

"Uhh," he said, aware he still hadn't caught his partner's name. "Hey, uh, kid, you'd better get back here right now!" he called up to the cockpit over the whine of the engines. He sat about removing more bales, revealing more of their unexpected prisoner.
 

Zaia Krodas

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Just as she’d asked, the ship was ready to go when she got to the cockpit. After pressing a couple buttons and flipping a few switches, the ship was in the air and on course for their destination out in the east of the Dune Sea. She sat back in her seat and looked outside at the desert. From up here, it didn’t seem so endless.

That was when she heard the Selonian’s voice. She abruptly stood up from her seat, about to leave for the cargo bay when BG rolled straight into her leg and began chirping urgently.

“What is it?” Zaia asked, then as BG let out a series of beep-boop-bops, her hand clenched tightly around the pilot’s seat. “He did what? Rushing out of the cockpit and into the cargo bay, she saw the Selonian with a pile of marcan herb bales next to him and an open box. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, she walked up to him with her arms crossed.

“Hey. When I said not to open the boxes-” Then she looked inside, and her eyes widened. “Osi'kyr.” The face of a young man frozen in carbonite stared back at her, and she glanced at the Selonian.

“Did you know about this?” she asked incredulously, gesturing at the crate. How did he know where to look? After a brief moment, she shook her head. “Never mind that. We have to get him out of there.” Zaia turned the crate onto its side, letting the rest of the marcan herb fall out along with the block of carbonite. Once that was out, she flipped it over so that the man’s face was once again facing upwards. Then she began to have some second thoughts about this whole thing, and turned back to the Selonian.

“Wait a minute. Uhh, you’re the Ranger. You know criminal stuff, right? Do you think we should let him out? We don’t know this guy, or why he’s in carbonite in the first place.” She lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck, but thought better of it when she caught the smell of marcan herb lingering around it. What did I get myself into this time?

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Karath inwardly cringed as the slab of carbonite slammed facedown onto the floor with a resounding clunk. At a momentary loss for any idea what to do, he remained silent as Zaia flipped the poor guy back upright.

A self-deprecating laugh escaped him at her sudden confidence in his abilities, something in between the hiss-like laughter of homeworld Selonians and the odd sound that humans made when they found something funny.

"Ranger, heh. Well, whatever he did he probably doesn't deserve this. I think we should thaw him out. Land somewhere in the Dry Mountains, going back to 'Mos would raise the suspicions of whoever's idea this was. Then we'll thaw him, and see what the hell this is all about. Maybe if we're lucky he's enough of a menace to put back in, huh?" he laughed again, half-joking, half-serious. He needed credits.
 

Zaia Krodas

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“Alright, then. Your plan, not mine,” she said teasingly before giving him a sideways smile. “I’ll reroute the ship, and we’ll see what we can do. As for potentially putting him back…” She looked at the man frozen in carbonite. “I doubt we could freeze him again without the equipment, but I could knock him out. Same difference.” She shrugged at that, then headed back to the cockpit.

A quick flight later, they had landed in a dusty clearing between a couple of mountains. It was a relatively secluded area, and there weren’t many routes that the man could escape from if he chose to run away given the amount of boulders in the pathways. Zaia looked up from the cockpit to check. The only way out was up.

She went back into the cargo bay with the Ranger, tapping the button that allowed the slab of carbonite to hover a few inches above the ground. After BG lowered the ramp, Zaia took one end of the slab and started to pull it outside, letting the Selonian take the other end if he wanted to.

“You can do the honors,” she said, taking a step back from it when they were all outside. “I’ve got you in case he tries anything.” She patted the blaster on her hip. In truth, she was both curious and apprehensive about this. She’d never seen anyone, frozen or unfrozen, in carbonite before, and she had no idea what to expect. It could be a zombie that came out of there as far as she knew… and so she intended to be ready for whatever would happen.

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As the ship landed in an isolated, dry mountain canyon, the full weight of the supreme stupidity of the situation he and his coworker had found themselves in finally hit him. We might actually die out here, he thought. It didn't bother him as much as he wished it would've. He shook away the thought, the hot air arriving from outside grounding him back in the present. He sniffed at the air. Just sand, other than the Marcan herb which overpowered just about everything else.

"I'm pretty sure this is just another doomed misadventure bound to end in tragedy," he said, a sardonic, toothy smile on his face.
"But we'll give it a try." He pressed a blinking red button on the side of the carbonite capsule. With a beep, the carbonite began to melt away. It revealed a dark haired young man who appeared to be peacefully sleeping until he gasped, a small fountain of vomit arcing into the air from his mouth as his eyes snapped open.

"Aach!" Karath shouted, only just avoiding the puke.

The man tried to sit up, glancing left and right. Karath noticed his eyes glance down to the blaster on his leg.

"No, no, please, I'll pay you guys off, I'll have the creds soon, just gotta..." Karath held up a hand, and the man's voice trailed off.

"We're not the mob," he said. "We found you in a crate of herb we thought we were smuggling and decided to give you a fair shake. What exactly did you do to end up here?"

The man relaxed a little, though fear still lit up his eyes. "I uh... I stole from the mob. Not a lot, just a bit of scrap here and there. Last I remember they were going to send me out into the desert to the boss to be made an example of. Don't remember anything but a blue stun flash after that."

Karath looked to Zaia, approximating a shrug as best he could. It was pretty good. Too much time around humans.

"Well, its your lucky day, you floggin' idiot!" he said to the man.
 
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Zaia Krodas

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“Heyy, let’s keep things a little more optimistic here,” Zaia responded with a grin just before the Selonian pressed the button. Though she appeared calm(or at least she thought she did), she still had no idea what to expect and was pretty much on her toes.

That was why Zaia took a startled step back when she saw the small arc of vomit suddenly erupt from the man’s mouth. She instinctively pulled out her blaster at the sudden movement, pointing it in his direction. After a moment though, she realized how helpless the man was in this scenario, so she calmed herself down and slowly put it away. Plus, thanks to the Ranger, they now had a better understanding of what they had to work with now.

When he shrugged at her, Zaia could only shrug back. She only knew as much as he did, and the man’s story seemed reasonable. Just another di’kut.

“Yup. If not for my friend here, you would still be stuck in that crate,” Zaia added with a wry smile as she stepped forward. Or worse. She did feel a bit for the man though, getting on the wrong side of criminals wasn’t fun. Or maybe it could be, depending on who you were— she’d had her own ups and downs in that regard.

She helped the man up to his feet, and though he had some trouble standing at first, he seemed a little better after a few seconds. Once she was sure that he wouldn’t fall over with the wind, she released his arm and let him stand on his own, returning to her earlier spot standing next to the Selonian. Crossing her arms, she eyed him up and down.

“So. What kind of ‘scrap’ were you stealing?” she asked. If she was going to let him on her ship conscious, she’d have to know that he wasn’t just faking his story.

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The man leaned against a tan boulder of windswept sandstone, shaking in his boots. He looked like he might hurl again.

"Power converters. These ones had some rare metal in em, I think they all have a bit. Got caught lifting them from a warehouse and trying to trade them to Jawas for some herb... I guess that's ironic, eh? But that's it. Yeah, I'm an idiot, you can lecture me all you want on our way out of here... Preferably straight to the spaceport."

Karath looked to Zaia, again attempting to approximate a shrug. It seemed pretty cut and dry to him. The poor bastard was innocent, as far as he was concerned. This is why I'm broke, he thought.

"I have a better idea," he said. "How about we fly straight to Mos Espa, find someone to buy all this herb, and leave the moron. In Mos Espa, I mean. He'll be safer there, we will have enough to cover our costs, and you can leave from there. I can lay low a bit, hitchhike back to Mos Eisley. Ship should be fixed by then..." It was a half-baked scheme and he knew it, barely mustering the will to finish his sentence.

Engines thundered overhead as he pondered his misfortunes, echoing through the canyon walls, an old modified Clone gunship from its silhouette. He drew his blaster, wishing he'd affixed the stock to his oversized pistol. It would have to do.

"Mercs, damn it. Looks like they're here for their cargo." He dug into his jacket and produced a simple black metal slugthrower, the bare-bones type that fired hunks of metal propelled by explosive powder contained in a shell. He primed it with the flick of a button and passed it to the Idiot. "You want to live you're going to have to fight for it," he said, assuming a position behind the boulder.
 

Zaia Krodas

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“You’re an idiot, alright,” Zaia agreed with a roll of her eyes. The Ranger appeared to see little threat from the man as well based on his shrug, and even she had to admit she couldn’t see the purpose of lying here when he was clearly outmatched and trapped. Not to mention the fact that he looked like he was about to pass out at any moment.

As the Selonian’s voice trailed off, Zaia gave him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. She had to remind herself that even if the Ranger was older than she was, it didn’t mean that he had it all figured out. She could understand his uncertainty. It had been a constant companion when she’d first left her clan, leaving her directionless, lost. Besides, in her opinion, the best plans came out of spontaneity. “Hey, I got you.”

She drew back her hand and looked up when she heard the distinctive rumbling of engines above. A gunship. It appeared as if these mercs were here for the cargo, as they didn’t open fire then and there. Zaia looked around for her helmet before realizing that she’d left it back in the ship. Dank farrik. However, she did have her jetpack. As the gunship began to descend and mercs peeked out, she glanced over at the Ranger, who’d tossed a slugthrower over to the man. Hopefully he’d know how to use it, because if he even so much as put a dent in her ship, Zaia would be tossing him off mid flight.

She pressed a button on her gauntlet, letting the flames from her jetpack propel herself into the air. She landed right in the middle in the interior of the gunship, smirking as the mercs turned their heads in surprise.

“Hey, fellas.” Before they had a chance to respond, she pushed the ones at the edge off the ship so they fell down. It wasn’t high enough to kill them, but she was certain that the Selonian and their new friend could handle them. Meanwhile, she would deal with the ones who’d turn to face her on the ship, their blasters and vibroblades at the ready.

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Karath

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Karath winced as backblast from Zaia's jetpack threw hot air and sand into his face, taking cover behind the rock until he blinked it away. Engines shrieked overhead. He heard screams, saw falling bodies from the gunship, repulsor packs engaging just before they hit the ground. They were above him now, on a ledge above him in the narrow canyon, the boulder he crouched behind providing just enough of an angle to give him cover. He crouched next to the Idiot, eyeing the man's grip on the slugthrower, hoping he knew how to use it.

Blaster bolts smacked into the far side of the rock, the chemical-smell of molten stone reaching his nose through the dry desert air. He hoped the Mandalorian had his back. Pointless bloodshed over a couple of credits.

Why can't all of these fools get along? he mused through the adrenaline of battle. It did make him feel alive. He crept slowly to the left side of the boulder, holding his blaster out before him in a long armed, one handed grip. A red flash, a gentle touch of recoil, and one of the mercs dropped, simple flak armor clattering against the canyon wall as he fell, finally impacting the sandy ground with a muffled thump. There were four left by his thinking, though it had all happened fast.

He ducked back behind just as more bolts impacted the rock, each with a sizzling crack. The Idiot leaned to the side, a sharp pop echoing through the canyon as he fired once, the slug whizzing away into the air after impact with a rock ten feet to the right of one of the mercs who had them pinned.

Well he's not going to be much help. Come on Mando where the hell are you?

He leaned to the side again, exposing only his arm, firing three bolts blindly up to the ledge, each missing their mark. Return fire grazed his shoulder, leaving a black, burnt streak in his shirt. Wincing, he pat out the embers at the edges of the burnt fabric with his other hand before they could spread.
 

Zaia Krodas

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Zaia went to work disarming the two mercs who remained in the gunship with her, tossing their weapons off the ship. One stepped forward for a punch, while the other dove straight for her feet in a sort of desperate attempt to push her off the ledge. He did succeed to a degree, except for the fact that he was now hanging onto her ankle with one hand as the gunship slowly turned around. Her jetpack kept her in the air, and all she had to do to get him off was fire a shot right by his head. Panicked, the merc let go, and by the time Zaia looked up to see where the pilot and the remaining merc had gone, their ship was already zooming away.

She looked down at the scene underneath her as the sound of blaster fire rang through the canyon, and noticed that the mercs she’d thrown down earlier had managed to get on top of a ledge to pin the Ranger and the man behind a boulder somewhere below. At the moment, the Selonian seemed to be a little preoccupied with putting the embers out from his clothing as blaster fire continued to pelt him and the man, and Zaia realized that they probably wouldn’t be able to hold their position for much longer. The man’s attempts to shoot back with his slugthrower only resulted in even more concentrated return fire.

So, to give her companions a break, she did the only reasonable thing and fired a few shots back at the mercs, waving her arms to get their attention.

“Over here, di’kuts! Within a matter of seconds she found out that it hadn’t been a good idea after all. The blaster fire was redirected at her, forcing her to dive down low to avoid the bolts. One narrowly missed her gut, and she realized that these mercs weren’t bad shots at all. Glancing up for a brief moment, she noticed that two of the mercs were directly across from each other, and that gave her an idea. She flew directly into the narrow canyon before going straight up in front of them, the blaster bolts following her as she went. Right as she rocketed up in front of them, both mercs fired shots, taking each other down. She landed on a ledge a little above and behind the remaining two mercs, pulled out her blasters and shot each of them once in the head.

Walking to the edge of the cliff, she looked over at the boulder the Ranger and their new idiot friend were hiding behind.

“We’re all clear,” she called with a grin.

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((Sorry for horrendously long delay, just moved across the continent to Canada))

Karath stepped back, cautiously inspecting the new burn on his upper arm. He hadn't seen many who could fight like this Manadalorian. Had he known she was capable of such carnage he might not have inspected the cargo at all.

"That was fast," he said. "I think we're screwed if we stick around Mos Eisley much longer. Or, at least I am. I'm tired of this damned place. How do you want to split the cargo?"

He put his blaster back on his belt, glancing towards the man, who still sat crouched behind the rock. "No not you," he said. "The herb. It should at least cover fuel to get me offworld," he said, looking back towards the Mandalorian.
 

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As the Ranger looked over the wound on his arm, Zaia landed a few feet away from where he was standing, dusting some of the dirt off her armor as she approached him and the man.

“Split the cargo? You can take what you need, but I still need to make this delivery. I made a deal,” she said with her arms crossed, pursing her lips. “Then again, this will be the first and last time I’m doing this. I’m done smuggling this stuff. It’ll take ages to get the smell out of my ship. Not to mention we have another passenger.” She glanced at the man still huddled behind the rock when the Ranger spoke to him.

“You can come out now,” she added dryly. Standing up shakily, the man made his way over to the pair, his eyes darting from Zaia to the Selonian, though the Mandalorian’s attention was already back on the latter. “Why don’t you take what you need, hide it somewhere when I drop the herb off? I doubt they’d open the crates to check. They didn’t want me finding him.” She tilted her head in the direction of the man. “I get my money, you get your fuel, and you…” Zaia finally turned to look at their new(or perhaps not) passenger. “You get a free trip to wherever we stop next.”

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Karath listened to the young Mandalorian and her grand plan as he inspected the cargo. She still planned on dropping the cargo off? He wanted none of that. Perhaps she could deal with whatever fallout happened when they discovered their prized cargo was missing, but he doubted he could, and he was tired of this doomed quest. It was time to get off world, off to whatever blood-stained, booze-drowned misadventure awaited him next.

I am tired, he thought.

"Just keep all of it, I don't care," he said, agitation in his voice. "Just bring me back to Mos Eisely. Have to get out of here," he said.

"Awful place." he took an old crumpled paper, perhaps a fuel receipt, rolling a pinch of the herb up in it, lighting it with an arclighter in his pocket and drawing in a deep inhale. "Yeah, just take me back," he said, exhaling a cloud of resinous smoke.
 

Zaia Krodas

Character
Independent
Rank
Citizen

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OOC
Sicadorito
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“Alright. Suit yourself.” Zaia shrugged. Mos Eisley wouldn’t be much of a detour anyway— she just wanted her money. If the Ranger didn’t want a share, it was his loss. She raised her brow when he lit up the roll of herb. Dang, he must really want to get out of here. Well, it was none of her business anyway, and so she smiled.

“Come on, then. To Mos Eisley we go.” She waved the two aboard the ramp. Then she turned to her droid, who had come to greet her as usual. “You heard that, right?” BG beeped once and rolled away, and Zaia let out a sigh of contentment as she put her hands on her hips. It was so much easier having a droid do the flying for her. Not that she minded it, but there were some questions she had for the Ranger. Whether or not he would answer them would be up to him, but hey, there was no harm in trying.

When the ship started up, the carbonite man went to sit on the boxes of marcan herb, probably contemplating his life decisions or something. She certainly would have done so if she were him. That left her and the Selonian, who she was absolutely not going to let in the cockpit if he was still smoking that stuff. So, she found a nice quiet corner where they could talk that would be out of earshot of anyone else who might be listening, and offered the Ranger a chair.

“You did good back there. Those were some nice shots,”
she commented as she sat down on her own, kicking her legs over some kind of crate. She really needed to clean this place up. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised. You Rangers do have to be good at your job.” Pausing for a moment, she looked over at the Selonian, realizing that she still didn’t know his name. That would probably be a good place to start.

“What’s your name, by the way? I’m Zaia. Sorry. Should’ve told you that earlier.”

@Karath Nikolas
 
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