Mornings Come and Go

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

The Blind Eye had been in Exchange hands since its earliest days, though it had borne a different name for most of it. Garland’s. That man, the founder and namesake, had moved on – not to better things. And what had belonged to him now belonged to her. The ground floor was nothing special. Gaming tables and slots, a well stocked bar that catered to any number of chemical vices. Quiet now, in the late hours of the morning. A crew of uniformed janitorial staff wiped down and swept everything in sight, getting ready to open the place back up after lunch. Of course, the second floor never closed. Upstairs the neon and chrome dazzle gave way to imported wood parquetry floors and the strange hush of manufactured silence - the trappings of wealth over state of the art security. A dozen individual parlors circled the central space, overlooking the main floor. Most were rented out – and this degree of privacy did not come cheaply on Nar Shaddaa - but Lidah kept the largest, along with its connected rooms, for her personal use. Alderaanian nightbirds chirped merrily in their enclosure. A runty tuk’ata snored by her feet. Lidah browsed at her console, eventually pausing to speak into her comm. ”Thelonious.” Years of this business and that still felt weird. ”The shipment of Emerald wine is late. That’s the third time in a row.”

[Fromikeable]

"Again? Tsk." He rolled his shoulders, half in annoyance, half in a lazy stretch, his shirt ruffling. The bird on his shoulder chirped in surprise at his movement, pecking its beak at the comm on his ear as retribution before continuing to peck at the small treats in his hand. Petting the bird, his other arm reached out, his fingers waving idly as they aimed at the corner of the desk before him, just out of reach.

A holopad there zipped to his hand, powering to life as he yawned into his comm. Vance really needed to start going to bed earlier.

"Jericho told me he'd be more consistent with the crates now that we're his only customer. Either he's lying, or he's getting run out of business for a reason." Scrolling the holopad with a thumb, "Thelonious" smiled as the bird on his shoulder flapped its wings, cawing at the base of his chair. Below them both, a tiny winged lizard scurried up his other leg, jumping up to his shoulder and roaring proudly in an octave entirely too high not to be cute. The bird responded with disgust, the two threatening to get into an argument that was too loud for such a (relatively) early hour.

"I'll find us some before we open regardless." As the holo zipped back to the corner of the desk, Vance roused himself, making both of his passengers hiss in agitation. Getting one hand under the bird's talons and the other hand around the dragon's center, he reached out with the raptor. Given enough space, the creature stretched out its wings and gave a few powerful flaps, flying across Vance's room and out the door. With only the tiny wyrm left, Vance simply shook his head.

"Hedrax, would you stop roaring at the birds?" The dragon simply mewed at him before trying to wriggle free of his grip. With a roll of his eyes, Vance placed it down on the desk as well, watching it shake out its own wings.

[Rugs]

It had been... some time since he’d been to the Smuggler’s Moon. A few months, perhaps? Time seemed to slip by faster these days. The war had slowed down -- well, theoretically -- but that didn’t mean the Order had any less work for Locke.

It really only seemed like more, since his promotion a few years ago.

Still, he slipped away when he could. He felt some regret about it at times, knowing his mentors and other Jedi would be disappointed in him. But the way Locke saw it, it was just another check on a long list of his disappointing habits.

What’s one more, anyway?

At least this time he was on the world for business, and not just nominally so. He’d have to see how Moonfire’s investigation was going later. Couldn’t leave the young Investigator waiting. Then again, maybe she’ll learn something on her own for a while, Locke thought, shuffling through the crowds that choked this particular district on Nar Shadda, even in the early morning hours.

That was how he learned the most in his early goings. But Locke supposed undercover work was a different sort than what he’d brought Moonfire along for.

Ah, there it is.. As if the place would have moved. The Blind Eye sat, waiting, as it ever did for Tyrvast Ricost. Locke was dressed as the man for now. A memory that only one person in that building could truly appreciate. He was dressed the part of a spacer--a rough coat, simple work pants, a wholly unremarkable shirt, some boots--nothing that said a Jedi Master was strolling in as he walked through the front door.

The place was a quiet din of activity as it prepared for the day. A few workers gave him a strange look, then went about their business was they recognized him. Tyrvast, ostensibly one of Lidah’s stray mercenaries -- a grey jedi with limited ability in the Force, as far as anyone who didn’t matter knew -- wasn’t an uncommon guest to the establishment.

Locke wasn’t sure whether that was something to be proud of.

He made it to the lift without more than a casual greeting or two for some of the workers, and up he went. Lidah, he thought as the lift whirred upwards. That was and wasn’t the woman’s true identity, though Locke wagered he was one of less than a handful of people who knew that.

The lift doors opened to the sound of whirring birds coming from a room a short ways down the hallway. Locke knew Lidah was a collector, but it seemed louder than before. Or maybe he’d just forgotten since his last visit.

As he passed it, the door hissed open and a bird went flying out over his head as he reflexively ducked. Locke glanced into the room to see Vance, some other birds, and a little dragon.

“Never took you for much of a bird keeper,” Locke said, leaning in the doorway to talk to the young man. “New hobby, or have I really just been gone that damn long?”

[CaptainBonkers]

Ahhh...Nar Shadda. Jayec knew that smell well; smoggy with industrial grade chemicals and fuel mixed and sprinkled liberally with garbage. Even with his helmet's filters working overtime scrubbing out most of the pollution and other shit, the air that made it into his lungs still carried that distinct scent with it. It wasn't a particularly pleasant odor, but Jayec liked it all the same. The Smugglers' Moon was his home away from home, a regular hunting ground of his, and that scent, unpleasing as it might have been, was familiar to him. It told him that he was on familiar ground. Call it an acquired taste.

He had been able to spend more time on the moon as of late. With the war over his presence in the Manadlorian Space was no longer a necessity and so he could return to his old ways until the Mand'alor called again. This suited Jayec fine. As much as he had enjoyed the war, the glory of battle, he preferred the thrill of the hunt and peace time, especially one fraught with slowly boiling tensions between various galactic powers, offered more chances to indulge. Not to mention that hunting usually paid better than fighting did...

Business had been good lately, there was no denying that. Jayec and his crew had been receiving more job offers than they could realistically handle and as a result had become somewhat picky when selecting new customers. After all, no sense selling your talent cheap when the right people would pay through the nose for the services of Manadlorian mercenaries, especially ones with as long a rep sheet as Jayec's outfit. Of course, for reliable clients willing to pay up a retainer there was a considerable discount to be had whereas slime balls with deep pockets would soon realize that Jayec didn't do haggling. Clients that couldn't afford what he asked weren't worth his time.

The lady running The Blind Eye was definitely someone worth his time. Miss Faine had been one of Jayec's most reliable clients for a while now, seemingly almost always in need of his unit's services. Even when she wasn't in need of killing or capturing someone, Miss Faine could still usually conjure some well paying gig to run security for a crucial event or a meeting. Jayec might not have been one to regularly do guard work but even he wasn't one to scoff at a reasonable request from a good client. Besides, security work was a good way to unwind after a more intense mission while still earning a stick or two.

The security at the door tensed for a second when they saw a fully armored Mandalorian approaching but quickly relaxed when they recognized Jayec or rather the markings on his armor. He sincerely doubted that the guards could yet recognize him from anything else, like gait or the way he carried himself. It had taken them a while to give up trying to confiscate his weapons upon entry but finally he had been added on the list of people allowed to keep their weapons. As funny as it had been watching the bouncers trying to come up with the courage to ask for his weapons, this arrangement far more convenient. Not to mention it spoke volumes of the rapport between Miss Faine and Jayec. She trusted him at least enough to assume that he wouldn't accept contracts on her without giving her a heads up and a chance to beat the offer.

Jayec crossed the main level with brisk gait, gathering few gazes from the staff and the few patrons that ranged from nervous to curious. Jayec was fairly sure that if he ran their faces through the bounty database he'd get more than a few hits but he wasn't here to look for a quick cash grab. Besides, causing trouble in the Eye without consulting the owner would have been bad form.

Once he reached the second floor and Miss Faine's personal area, Jayec took of his helmet and attached it to his belt. From experience he could tell that most clients preferred to see his face but were often too squeamish or polite to ask him to take it off. It was understandable, Mandalorians had a reputation of getting insulted when asked to remove their helmets by anyone non-Mandalorian.

It seemed that Faine had company. One of her bodyguards and man Jayec couldn't immediately place. However they didn't seem to be too deeply in conversation for him to barge in. "Su cuy'gar, Miss Faine." he said, giving a polite nod to the woman. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything important."

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

”Well. If he can’t do the job, we’ll have to find someone else.” Lidah stood and pulled the jacket off her chair, slipping her feet back into a pair of dark snakeskin flats. ”Wait ... Do you think it’s the Unseen fucking with him again?” Frowning at the middle distance, she pulled on the jacket, venom green wool over a crisp white blouse. Last night’s ensemble, slightly rumpled by the hours spent in her office. A familiar force signature was moving through the building. Annoyingly, there was little that could block a force adept’s senses. At least nothing that she could have built into the walls. Annnd. He walked right by her door. Stepping carefully around the sleeping sith hound, Lidah keyed open her door and stuck her head out into the hall. ”Really, Generalissimo? Three months and ...” She stopped abruptly, momentarily silenced by the site of a rare Felucian lyrebird flapping down the hall. That particular bundle of ill will and feathers was worth something to the tune of several thousand credits. What was Vance – Thelonious – doing? ”Three months and - … Good morning, Jayec. ‘You’re still alive,’ too.” Lidah stepped into the hall, letting the door seal behind her. ”I suspect everything is important to someone but uh, we can speak freely. More or less. Actually, I have something for you to do.” She followed the bird, beckoning to it without the Force. There was really nowhere for it to go, this level was environmentally sealed. As long as no one held open the door for the damn thing. ”There’s an old station of ours. It took in a bad shipment of fuel yesterday - stuff’s quickly degrading into toxic sludge. We’ll deal with the vendor later but, for now, that stockpile has got to go. Would you and your associates be interested in taking care of that?”

[Fromikeable]

The Unseen? Vance hadn't considered that. People had tried to poison their food before, sure, but typically those attempts had circumvented the actual food suppliers. Emerald wine was a hot commodity, to be sure, but were the Unseen really willing to kick up that much dust just because Jericho had gotten a better deal somewhere else?

Vance opened his mouth to speak when a familiar tug in the Force caught his attention. Subdued, surely, but the presence coming through the front door was familiar, its stoic nature doing its best to keep itself pulled tight. The way it flowed as it came up the stairs, the way it seemed to become a bit less reserved as it walked past other suites...

Vance was already smiling by the time it got to the door. His face melted to an expression of downright joy, some tiny, childish, innocent part of the young adult Grey Jedi seizing the reigns of his mind. He was blissfully unaware of his own reaction; it was simply too wonderful to him to see the Jedi master standing in his doorway.

"Lo-!" DON'T BLOW HIS COVER AGAIN. Clearing his throat, his expression failed to dampen. "Tryvast!" Pointing at Hedrax with a thumb, "Thelonius" swiveled in his chair a bit, his sudden good mood apparent. "Then you were right. I was trying to feed it when the King of Socorro's Mighty Beasts decided he wanted to yell at it for being on my shoulder." For his part, Hedrax seemed satisfied, regarding Locke with a single open eye as it laid across Vance's desk in a lazy fashion.

Before he could fire off a return question, a bit of Mando'a and Lidah's voice came from the hall. Getting up and meeting Locke at the doorway, Vance peeked out, waving a polite hello to Jayec before tracking Lidah's eyes to the now-free lyrebird coming to perch on a chandelier. Sucking his teeth, he shook his head at it lightly.

"Neither of you are intruding on anything. It's been a slow morning." Sticking out a hand, the bird treats flew from Vance's room into his palm. Selecting one, he carefully began to levitate it upward toward the chandelier, attempting to tantalize the lyrebird down by keeping it just out of reach.

"How've you both been?" Glancing at them both, he couldn't wonder at why he bothered asking. Locke couldn't exactly go into the specifics of what Jedi work he'd been doing, and Jayec had proven more than competent in not spilling Exchange-related beans in front of new people.

... bah, vague answers would still work fine.

[Rugs]

Locke couldn’t help but smile as Vance--or Thelonius, rather--nearly burst his name out for anyone in the hallway to hear. The younger Jedi was older now than when they first met, years ago, but some things didn’t change. Vance carried himself with more confidence these days, but was still as excitable as ever, at times. The happiness nearly radiating from him like light from a star in the Force was testament to that.

Would’ve made a fine Jedi, Locke thought, not for the first time with a pang of regret. But at least this situation was better than where Vance had been earlier.

“Thelonius,” he said in answer to Vance’s greeting with an amused smile. “Well, best get the King of Socorro’s Mighty Beasts to learn to share, eh? No one likes a tyrant. One moment everything seems fine, and next thing you know,” he clicked his tongue as he dragged his thumb across his neck.

“Tell him that one’s free,” he added with a too-serious look at Vance. “But if he wants further advice, I’m sure he’ll find my rates very reasonable.”

Locke’s attention drifted to the hallway in tandem with Vance’s at the sound of voice’s coming from further up. Lidah’s room. He turned, to see Jayec there, taking his helmet off. He was an agreeable enough fellow, though Locke only possessed a passing knowledge based on a few brief conversations with him. Reliable. Competent.

The whole being-a-Mandalorian bit made him strange, in Locke’s eyes, but everyone had to have a fault somewhere.

And then there she was. Lidah, as she called herself these days. Only you could get away with hiding under your real name, he thought with a half-smile as his gaze lingered on her for perhaps a heartbeat longer than what might be considered polite for an employee looking at his employer.

“Ms. Lidah,” he said, offering the pseudo politeness Tyrvast only showed to his employer. “Jayec.” That was accompanied by an acknowledging nod of the head as Vance went about trying to lure the bird down from the chandelier.

Locke grinned at Vance’s question, his eyes meeting Lidah’s for a moment.

“Oh, well, I’m afraid it’s nothing all that interesting this go ‘round,” he said. “There’s plenty of work to be had, y’know, with the Sith and Republic at each other's’ throats but trying’ to play nice about it. Take this there, bribe this person, kill that one but make it look like an accident.” Locke shrugged.

“But it’s been so long since I was here last, and Ms. Lidah always has somethin’ that needs doing, so,” he spread his palms and clasped them together again, “here I am. Besides, war profiteerin’ gets a bit old after a while. Need a break to cleanse the soul and all that."

[CaptainBonkers]

That was quick. Jayec was barely through the doorway and already Lidah had offered him a job. Not that he was complaining; Miss Faine always had something going on that could benefit from Mandalorian expertise. One of the many reasons she was among Jayec's shortlist of favorite clients. "Sure, we’ll take care of it. Sounds like an good chance to break in couple of the new guys." 

Waste disposal was a little out of Jayec and co.'s regular purview but he suspected that Faine wouldn't have bothered to make the offer if she didn't believe that contracting his outfit to handle it was her best option. It was also possible that there were details to the job that she didn't want to discuss in front of the others present in the room. Either because of some additional objectives or from the general paranoia that was required to make it in her line of work. Folks didn't make it as high in the Exchange as she had without a healthy dose of paranoid thinking. Which was one of the reasons why Jayec preferred to work as a regular freelancer rather than joining up with any of the big syndicates.

Before he had a chance to ask for any details Faine’s bodyguard, Theo, voiced a question about how he, and the other man Jayec was fairly sure he had met only very briefly before, had been doing lately. ’Pretty well’ was the simple answer but that was given. Theo was most likely well aware of most, if not all, the jobs Jayec and his comrades had been pulling for Lidah and Jayec wasn’t one to state the obvious unless anyone else didn’t want to. ”Just returned from a visit to Keldabe, actually. Dropped off some of my hard earnings and relaxed with the family.” it had been a pretty good visit. Seeing his siblings and their kids was always a treat. Like always he had had to fend off his nieces and nephews requests to hop on his ship. Ever since he had allowed Jayna on the unit every one of them was asking to do the same. This time Jayrec had finally given in allowed Dorcan and Sel come along but the rest were still to young to tag along.

”Got blind drunk with some old buddies, hunted some nexus, you know the usual stuff you do when you visit home after a while.” he added conversationally. Jayrec had never been particularly private person, at least not over stuff that he didn’t have to be. Others’ secrets he would take to the grave, though. His own he was fairly ready to share with people he liked.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

She would not stare. She would not order Vance and Jayec out of the room, though the thought crossed her mind and lingered selfishly. Vance just seemed so happy, and well … While Jayec was a very well behaved professional murderer, he was still just that. Dangerous if someone else hired him, and damned if she would hand him any extra clues about how to get at her. ”How long will you be staying, Tyr? I’ll find something that fits your time table.” That much, at least, Locke could probably answer truthfully. Attention passing back to the mandalorian, Lidah tilted her head and listened politely. The usual stuff was far outside her area of expertise, of course. She didn’t favor any kind of intoxication that muddled her senses and she’d spent much more time hunting people rather than nexu cats. Luckily, details about her own life never really seemed expected in return - at least with hirelings of Jayec’s caliber. He was sensible like that. Lidah checked the time on her datapad, a few extra taps sending an encrypted message with the fuel stockpile job to the mercenary's ship computer. ”The kitchen’s still closed, and will be for a while. What would you all say to grabbing breakfast? There’s this place called ‘Fork’ about, oh, six blocks down. I'm buying.” She fired off another message and slipped the device into her pockets. Mr. F. Breakfast at Fork. Follow but keep a distance.

[Fromikeable]

The Jedi were keeping busy despite the peace, or so Locke made it sound. Vance could imagine; the Order had been stretching itself thin even before it had gone all-in in the war, Knights and Masters being assigned with few breaks. These days? Even if the war was "over", there was no mistaking the change the galaxy had seen.

The Sith Order might not have been quite as old as their counterparts, but they had grown by leaps and bounds while the Jedi had only suffered casualties.

The contrast Jayec spoke of was astounding. Were the Mandalorians really so relaxed in their everyday lives? They'd conquered (or reconquered, depending on who you asked) entire planets, raised entire armies, made entire armories, and... well, Vance supposed that was how they liked to live. It was more akin to being a Jedi than he thought either side would like to admit.

... shaking the musings from his head, he nodded as the lyrebird finally took flight, hunting the float treat. Leading it back toward, the bird perched upon his shoulder as it finally caught its prize, swallowing it greedily. Giving it a few praising pets, Vance finally turned around, his smile still apparent.

"You guys will love the Fork." Still too excited to consider any real rebuke of the plan, the grey Jedi was already strolling back into his room. Scratching Hedrax on the head, he placed the bird upon its perch. Grabbing a black jacket from the back of his desk chair, he moved to leave, closing the door as he did. The last sight was Hedrax curling up atop the desk, roaring (squeaking, really) at the bird anew.

"But how is everybody?" Trying to choose his words carefully, Vance lead them all downstairs out the front door into the almost-noon hustle of Nar Shadda. Facing Locke as he spoke, the padawan's hands were just as active as his mouth as he asked about different "mercenaries", renovations to "the facilities in the Core", the stakes of different "drug deals in the Inner Rim"... as much as he could ask about the Order without making it sound like anything other than Exchange business. Every answer he got (or non-answer) was heard with rapt attention.

Just because he wasn't a Jedi any more didn't mean he wasn't still curious about how they were doing. And while the holonews could cover the basics, Vance was just never satisfied.

By the time they reached the cafe, he was finally giving it a rest, holding the door for the assembled party before they all found seats along the counter. Sighing happily once he was settled, Vance reviewed his menu happily. The surprise of Locke's appearance was beginning to wear off, leaving a less excited (but still very content) grey Jedi to ease off the heavier questions and generally relax.

"Whatever you do, don't listen to the waiters. They'll tell you the pancakes are best, which is dead wrong. The omelettes are where it's at."

[Rugs]

”How long will you be staying, Tyr? I’ll find something that fits your time table.”

Hmmm... Locke’s brow creased as he pondered Novus’ question. In all honesty, he didn’t know how to answer that, exactly. On his own, he could set his schedule to suit his needs, within reason. But I’m not alone, he told himself, thoughts drifting back to Moonfire. She was a Knight, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but still, Locke couldn’t leave her for too long.

He let Jayec answer while he worked an answer over in his mind. The Mandalorians response was... surprisingly wholesome. Locke’s brows even rose slightly as he considered it. Spending time with the family, some hunting, drinking, the “usual stuff?”

“Jayec, I’m jealous,” he said with a huffed laughed and earnest smile. “Hell, wish I could get a damn break like that one of these days.”

But a Jedi’s work never ended, did it?

“I’ve got a bit of time to spare,” Locke said, eyes turning to Lidah with a shrug. “But I don’t know that I can linger too long. A few hours, perhaps.” An unsatisfactory answer, perhaps, but a safe one.

Novus suggested breakfast, and Locke found it an altogether agreeable idea. She suggested the ‘Fork’ -- which Vance happily agreed to -- and it sounded as good as any other place to Locke.

“Y’know, this place is home,” he motioned broadly to indicate the Smuggler’s Moon in whole, rather than the immediate area, “and I’ve never been there.” Of course, it was only ‘home’ in that Locke was born there. Coruscant was more a home to him, and his family, while they had lived, had lived in a much worse-off district on the other side of the moon.

“Course, the folks didn’t have it good enough to stay out of the rougher parts.” That much, at least, was true.

He filed in behind Vance and followed the young man off to the restaurant. Along the way, he was pelted with questions that, on the surface were about the general state of things. Locke knew Vance was asking about more, and as much as he’d like to offer earnest answers, he chose his words carefully. Especially with Novus present -- their relationship might have been significantly less hostile than it had once been, and she was ostensibly separated from the Sith these days, but even so, some things had to remain close to the chest. This of course, didn't even consider the Mandalorian present and the fact that they were traveling along Nar Shadda's crowded streets, where anyone could be a threat in hiding.

Still, he answered what he could. The Core's "facilities" were fine, as were several mercenaries Vance asked of. And the Jedi? Well, they were the Jedi, still. Spread thin and overworked at times, but everyone knew that. Perhaps he'd have more to share later, which he was sure the younger man could understand to mean that now wasn't the best time for such talk.

“All I’m saying is, this’ll put some hair on your chest. Or more of it, I don’t know.” By the time they arrived, Locke had shifted the conversation to some Corellian whiskey he’d brought for Vance. “And don’t go chasing it with water either. Can’t burn any more than running around that rock Korriban did.

“You make sure he drinks it right,” he said, with a teasing grin at Novus. “What will the mercenaries say if they think he’s a wimp?”

Locke seated himself at the counter, glancing around the restaurant. It seemed respectable enough. “Omelettes,” he snorted. “I hope this place has some eggs benedict.”

Now there was something he’d not had in ages.

[CaptainBonkers]

Jayec perked up immediately when he Lidah mentioned a breakfast on her. His own had consisted of Krayt Jerky, which while an excellent snack, was beginning to grow old after two months. His crew had accumulated something of a surplus during their last visit to Tatooine and were now slowly working their way through the several crates still laying around in the Bes’galaar’s hold. They had done a considerable dent in the supply already but were finally beginning to seriously consider just chucking the rest of the jerky out of the airlock next time they took off. Jayec had tried flogging it all off to some dodgy meat vendors in the bazaar district but no one seemed to be interested in buying couple of months old jerky that had spent most of that time in an unrefrigerated storage crate in a cargo hold.

Nodding in approval to the offer Jayec strolled along with the others, stopping only for a moment to put his helmet back on once they were out of the Eye. He wasn’t expecting trouble but that didn’t mean he liked to walk out in the streets without covering his head. The displays on his helmet’s visor quickly whirred into action and connected to the local holonet, downloading a wealth of information for him to access, most interesting for Jayrec at the moment was the navigator. Nar Shaddaa might have been an old stomping grounds of his but it was also a place where the layout could change very rapidly as old parts ere replaced or simply collapsed when one rusted bolt finally decided to give up.

He did take part in the conversation that was going on but did make a note that Theo and Tryvast were talking in quite wide generalities. Of course, considering the business they were both in, evasive discussions was completely understandable. They might have invited Jayec along to a breakfast but he was still a freelancer that might one day be hired to work against them, though Jayec had tried to make sure that anyone paying his crew a retainer would get a notification from him if he was offered a job that hurt them directly in someway as well as a chance to make a counter offer.

“And don’t go chasing it with water either. Can’t burn any more than running around that rock Korriban did.”

Now that was an intriguing little comment. Not many folks were allowed on Korriban and most gigs there were fairly high risk. Not to mention that most of them weren’t suitable for people that you’d find working as a bodyguard. Smugglers could occasionally make a good stack or two running contraband on the Sith Lords there and there was never a shortage of Siths looking to kill another Sith but to take on those jobs you either had to be a Mandalorian or have some other qualities.

As he sat down next to the counter, Jayec removed his helmet and examined the menu. It was fairly standard as menus went and to his delight it had just what he needed. “I’ll take the classic.” he said, putting the menu down only moments after picking it up.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

A few hours. That wasn’t much time, especially after a leg of interplanetary travel. Lidah’s brow creased for half a moment as she processed that. It probably wasn't a lie, even in this mixed company. Had something important happened? Tyrvast wasn’t giving anything away, but that was Locke’s habit. Sticking to the cover long past where anyone else would have given up the ghost. Jedi business, then. On Nar Shaddaa or nearby: Nal Hutta or possibly something ship or station bound. Nothing came immediately to mind, and once she accounted for bureaucratic lag and travel time … The possibilities quickly became too numerous for one mind to track. ”That’s not enough time, Tyr. Barely enough to pick up my dry cleaning.” They stepped outside into the afternoon haze – notable even in the ‘nice parts’ of the moon’s sprawling city. She was a little jealous of Jayec too. His helmet probably had air scrubbers built in. As they walked, Lidah reeled her presence in, until it was no more noticeable than the mandalorian’s. Or a lyrebird’s. It muted her senses in turn, like a wad of cotton gauze in the mouth and over the ears. In her experience, you never got used to the transition. Make sure he drinks it right? Lidah blinked. Korriban? The conversation had moved on from the very broadest strokes of a Republic space status update. Someday Vance would really need to learn a thing or two more about subtlety. ”Oh, I’m sure I’m the very last person Thel wants for examining his hairy chest. How about you, Jayec? Some day, when both you aren’t supposed to be working for me, you could split that bottle.” Jericho and the Unseen could be waiting quite a while at this rate. Lidah took a seat at the counter and, defiantly, ordered the pancakes.

[Fromikeable]

”Oh, I’m sure I’m the very last person Thel wants for examining his hairy chest."

"Gross." The squint of disgust on Vance's face failed to end his smile, but clearly wiped images of steaming omelettes from his mind. That was just... wrong. Lidah and he weren't related in any capacity, but... no, just... ew.

"I can check my own hairy chest, thank you very much." Shaking his head at the entire line of thinking, Vance happily put in his order for a omelette with bacon and goat cheese, rounding out a colorful order indeed. With their food being prepared, Vance found his first chance to take in the late morning, sipping some water as he did. The outside street bustled, being a wide three-way intersection, speeders zipping overhead as people scuttled on the ground below. Within the cafe, life proved far calmer, the many tables filled with a range of characters. A group of well-dressed women sat in a booth by the window sipping tea and laughing loudly. A Twi'lek man, a worker by the look of his clothing, smiled at his young son beside him at their table, the boy feroiciously stabbing at a "monster" on his plate with his fork. In the back, secluded in a corner, a middle-aged couple chatted mildly over cups of coffee, their faces resting in relaxed smiles.

Today was a good day. A commodity far more valuable than even the oldest Emerald Wine.

"I won't turn down a drink with you though, Jayec. So long as it's just the one." Smiling sheepishly, Vance scratched his chin. "I know my limits." Coming out and saying "I get drunk at the drop of a hat" seemed like a good way to be teased by the Mandalorian for the rest of time.

[Rugs]

Locke could not completely hide the smirk that threatened to turn into a full-toothed grin as the conversation turned -- more than he expected -- to the quality of Vance’s chest hair. “All I’m saying,” he started innocently as he picked up a holographic menu, “is that it never hurts to have a second set of eyes. I think we can all agree on that, eh?” Now he did grin, turning to Novus and offering a sly little wink as he set about figuring out what this ‘Fork’ place had to offer.

The menu was diverse, but straightforward. Locke chortled as Jayec promptly placed his order, and again as Novus, bucking the talk of egg-themed meals, selected pancakes.

“Feeling contrarian are we?” he asked. Then found exactly what he was looking for.

“Egg benedict,” he said, slapping his hand loudly on the counter. The server, a red Twi’lek with blue rings around his lekku, looked at Locke strangely from the corner of his eye, but took the order.

“I’m sure Jayec here could help push those limits,” Locke said. “Personal growth, reaching new heights. Seems like a Mandalorian would be good for it, eh?”

With orders placed, Locke glanced around the restaurant. All seemed to be well, for the moment, and his senses -- while slightly dulled by his mostly-concealed Force affinity -- didn’t detect any immediate causes for concern. His thoughts for a moment shifted to Novus’ earlier words. A few hours wasn’t enough time.

How much dry cleaning does she have to pick up anyway, he wondered, amused.

“I may be able to modify my schedule somewhat, Ms. Lidah,” he said. He dropped his voice slightly, to keep his words among the group’s hearing. “I do have some information you may be interested in.” But that has to wait for later, his tone implied. That much was true. There were some goings-on elsewhere in Hutt Space that Novus would no doubt find some interest in.

But it’d also be good to catch up with her, if he could. Three months felt like an awfully long time.

As long as Moonfire doesn’t get herself into trouble.

[CaptainBonkers]

Correlian whiskey was a a tempting offer. The folks in Correlia might have but too much faith in their engines winning their battles for them or getting them out of trouble otherwise but they did know how to make good booze, Jayec had to give them that. Of course that was just about it. The Correlians had two achievements to their name as a culture; overdeveloped engines and decent spirits. Not much to brag about but it didn't seem to stop the flyboys from there wagging their mouths like they were the kings of the Galaxy. Then again, if your people only had two noteworthy achievements to its name, then it was understandable that its members felt the need to inflate and shine up their egos somehow.

"That does sound tempting. The flyboys might have a chip or two on their shoulders but at least they make decent whiskey." the idea of downing a few with Theo wasn't at all unappealing. The lad seemed like a decent bloke and it was never a bad idea to build rapport with the people close to the one paying your bills. Especially considering how close Theo and Lidah seemed to be. Jayec hadn't often seen one without the other and the banter between the two of them could often be more casual than one might expect between a bodyguard and the guardee.

"And don't you worry about limits, burc'ya. They are made to be broken." Jayec's father had had a saying on said matter 'hurl yourself at the borders until they break you or you break them.' and  that had always stuck with Jayec. It explained the basic mindset of his people quite well. "Besides, Correlian whiskey is pretty light stuff, once you get used to it. Add a cube or two of ice and it'll take you a whole bottle to get properly buzzed."

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

”Always.” Lidah lingered on the tea menu. A small, private smile turned up one corner of her lips then was swiftly banished. ”Besides, the pancakes really are very good.” She added a pot of smokey breakfast tea to her order, enough to share with the table. ”Just one drink? I cannot speak for our friend here, but that seems entirely against the spirit of the gift. For shame, Thel.” It was such a Vance thing to say, that she didn’t really disapprove on a personal level. Maybe it was a little bad for his cover, but only if he couldn’t come up with a better lie. Young men were expected to get up to a certain amount of trouble and Thelonious was always strangely well behaved. He obviously had the resources and status not to be. Beyond all that, while Lidah didn’t know Correllian whiskey, she did know Locke. It could be half star fighter coolant and he’d still get a kick out of convincing Vance to drink it. The food and drinks began to arrive, accompanied by a general lapse in conversation. Purely habitual in her case – she trusted Fork not to poison her food, but that was as far as it went. The timer on the teapot ticked up, and at three minutes she lifted the lid off and the infuser out of the water. Finally, the server departed. She angled her head, watching Locke. ”Ah. Information … You could have led with that. Maybe you wont have to leave empty handed after all, Generalissimo.” Lidah speared a chunk of syrupy red fruit on her plate. ”Come back to the Eye with me after this? We’ll see what you know. And if I’m interested.”

[Fromikeable]

"You fuel the lies with your adherence to inferior breakfasts." Chuckling a little, Vance couldn't help but dwell on the moment. A Mandalorian, a Jedi Master, the leader of the Exchange, and a grey Jedi debating the qualities of breakfast food and Corellian whiskey on a lazy morning in a cafe on Nar Shadda.

It sounded like a corny joke.

As for him going against the spirit of the whiskey, Vance shrugged with a smile as his omelette arrived. Locke had already seen him fall off the wagon once; that the Master actively encouraged him to do it again was both touching and joking condemned. He had enough trouble with beer and lighter proofs; if he wasn't careful, more than a glass of well-aged whiskey would have him running through the streets yelling like a psychopath high on death sticks.

He'd far rather enjoy the taste during a nice night in. Maybe in the midst of a good movie. Mmm.

With food came appraisal and, with everyone seemingly satisfied with their selections, silence. For a while, they weren't even a corny joke. They were just a party of four partaking in one of life's simplest pleasures, substituting the din of their individual, complex, interwoven lives with the light clacking of silverware on plates.

One of the moments Vance had learned to live for.

"I'll catch up with you guys later tonight then." Swallowing a bite of home fries, Vance sipped his drink before continuing, lightly clearing his throat. "I've still got to track down some wine before we open." While that needed to happen, Vance mostly just wanted to be out of the Eye. His excitement at seeing Locke put aside, Lidah hadn't seen him for three months either. Business or not, he assumed that they both might enjoy some privacy for the rest of the day, whatever the nature of their discussions.

"Want to give me a hand, Jayec? Emerald wine's way stronger than a bottle of whiskey; when we find some, you could give it a try." On the one hand, "finding booze for a casino" was a gross under-utilization of an experienced Mandalorian's skillset. The task would likely just consist of making a few calls, seeing what exactly had Jericho's supply in such a twist, and maybe making a trip or two to finalize deals or help the old Duro man out.

On the other hand, Vance wouldn't argue with company, and he was trying to be subtle in telling the Mando not to return to the Eye either.

[Rugs]

“Yea, let’s not forget the spirit of things here,” Locke said hurriedly after Novus spoke, as if truly worried that Vance wouldn’t tend to his gift properly. It was a show, of course. “Maybe we can work you up to handling more.” He leaned back as the food arrived at the table, and picked up a fork as he carried on without missing a beat. “Put you through a twelve-step program. By the time we’re through you’ll be givin’ ol’ Jayec here a run for his money.” Locke motioned at the mandalorian with a dull knife as he spoke.

The breakfast was good, as Vance and Novus had indicated it would be. It’d been some time since had a nice meal just to have one -- and this was far better than the standard Republic meal kits distributed on the front lines.

”Ah. Information … You could have led with that. Maybe you won't have to leave empty handed after all, Generalissimo.”

Locke chuckled as he lifted the tea pot to pour a bit for himself.

“I could have, yes,” he said. “But where’s the fun in rushing? I do imagine you’ll be quite interested, through.” A bit of a tease to set expectations. Expectations were a tricky thing, but in this case, Locke was more than certain he had the follow through to match.

It just so happened that Vance got the idea to offer to be out of the Blind Eye for most of the day. And offered to have Jayec assist. Locke smirked at his plate as he lifted a piece of bread, but successfully quelled the urge to snicker.

“What, are you afraid that we’re gonna-”

Locke stopped suddenly, brow knitted. Keeping his ability in the Force reeled in as he did reduced how brightly he shined to others, but it also dulled his senses from their usual razor’s edge to a knife that needed sharpening.

Yet, even to them, something felt strange. He calmly put more food into his mouth, chewing steadily so as to not raise suspicion among the restaurant at large. “We should be alert,” he said simply. Quietly. The playfulness from a few heartbeats earlier had disappeared from his voice. “Something is about to happen.”

[Jazen]

Mr. F. Breakfast at Fork. Follow but keep a distance.

The aforementioned Mr F, better known as Forte in his dealing for his employer, Lidah Faine, watched as the message scrolled across his HUD. A device he had made sure was installed when the armor was made; the message traveled to his wrist comm, where it was then filtered up to his HUD for easy viewing. A tactic that had saved his life in battle many a times, as well as allowing him to remain on over watch for hours at a time without moving an inch. A key skill in his profession, especially considering the jobs Lidah often sent him on. Without having to touch his wrist to activate it, Forte clicked his tongue twice, triggering his suit's audio to message translator, sending his reply back to her with a short, to the point, reply.

Landing now. ETA five. Mission successful. Results expected within a day.

Then he clicked it off again and set about finishing the final phase of landing, having received the message as he was on approach to the private dock Lidah had set for him. Deft hands that had made the landing hundreds of times brought him in swift and safely, the landing struts barely touching down before he was out of the cockpit, the engines still humming with heat as they cooled. He had everything he needed on his person already, so he trigged the jetpack strapped to his back and flew up into the clustered buildings around him, already angling himself towards their location.

He had learned Lidah's favorite haunts for when she had business to take care of and the Fork was one of the more familiar ones. She changed them often enough to keep her enemies always guessing or stretched too thin to watch them all...and the former Darth Novus was more than capable of figuring out a safe place to be to handle her affairs. Forte, in kind, had scoped out each site and knew where to hide at each one that gave him full vantage of the situation. So he was well in place when they went inside, hidden among shadows, his HUD displaying everything he needed to see in full detailed definition.

For the most part, things were quiet, but there was...something. Something he hadn't felt in a while and although his current location kept him distant enough from standing out, the feeling was still there. And he understood the other reason Lidah wanted him at a distance.

A distance that wasn't going to stick. Trained eyes picked it up even before his brain processed it, darting to and fro. Bodies in the crowds shuffling about. A sudden nervousness in the crowd, people suddenly changing directions to go any way but down certain paths. The reason wasn't hard to spot. He may have been a ghost in the shadows, even in his armor, but the heavy thugs that were making their way towards the Fork might as well have been armobulls in a glass shop. He counted at least half a dozen that were standing out, with more moving about and taking positions. A quick glance showed a tiny bit of metal sticking out, aiming at the door of the fork. Sniper.

Clicking his tongue twice again, a message would soon beep urgently on Lidah's comm link. The one that told her to answer immediately. The message simply read Trouble. Heavy numbers. Symbol. Botto the Hutt. Doors covered. Then he clicked off the message, but left the connection ready to receive her return message or comm, or to get a live update from him. The benefit of his helmet; he could mute it so that his words didn't go pass the helmet. Which meant that he was already moving, quiet as the night, towards the heavy sniper that overlooked the door. He was the biggest threat he had to remove...and from the looks of it, not the only one.

Looks like the night wouldn't be boring after all.