They Dug Your Grave

[Blue]

Sometimes, what a person really needed was a jolly good scream into the uncaring void. It would hardly be the first time things had gone badly wrong for Willam; in fact, it would be fair to say that his entire life consisted of simply moving from one bad event to the next. Even when things seem to be going well, it was often merely a prelude to the next terrible thing that the galaxy decided to beat him over the head with. Yet, despite it all, the captain had always been able to make it out. For all the bad luck he had, Willam had never failed to bend it back around and get away by the skin on his teeth. Missing a few parts here and there, certainly. But he, always, always, got out alive. But this? This took the cake. This time, he would be lucky if he did not get out alive. Once again, this was suppose to be a simple job. A little digging revealed that the Jolly Janitors did a lot of work for the Nar Shaddaa based Exchange. That worked out well; after what happened on Bothawui, he was in desperate need of indulging in some vices. Two birds, one blaster bolt! He would land, have a night of excess, then find a public terminal somewhere and anonymously send the Exchange the video file. No doubt they would have some slicers that could locate the source eventually, but Willam was confident enough in his own slicing skills to buy him time to get off-world before they could sniff him out. One last good... semi-good deed, giving Ylva's employers a heads up that she had gone fungal, then he was off towards the Core Worlds and somewhere less dangerous for a change. So naturally, not five minutes after he had landed on Nar Shaddaa, the Chorus decided that Nal Hutta was looking tasty and popped into the system for a quick snack. For the first day or two, he stayed on the Lathspell, pondering his next move despite knowing there was only one thing he could do. He could not leave, the Chorus fleet would annihilate him. Staying was not much better if his past experiences had taught him anything; it would only be a matter of time before those creatures turned their eyes on the Smuggler's Moon. Might as well do what I came here for in the first place. Leaving Odd on the ship and without bothering to attempt to hide his presence, the captain strode to the nearest terminal and sent off the video footage to the Exchange. He had done some minor work with them before, shifting cargo, so he had a channel he could use to send it through without messing about finding them. Then off through the tension-filled streets and into the Blind Eye. It was a nice enough establishment and he was presentable enough to get inside without much fuss. They let him keep his pistol, at least. The place was empty of customers; a stark monument to the severity of things. Willam mutely beelined it to the bar, ordered the largest, cheapest bottle of alcohol and began drinking, muttering the verses of "What Do You Do With A Drunken Spacer" under his breath as he did so. "Lash him to the hull and then break orbit, lash him to the hull and then break orbit. Lash him to the hull and then break orbit, early in the morning..." Those damned fungus-bug-whatsits. It was like they were following him. In the last month, they just kept popping up wherever he went. Never mind the horror stories that were coming in over the HoloNet... "Toss him to the Black and watch him flounder, toss him to the Black and watch him flounder. Toss him to the Black and watch him flounder, early in the morning..." Quarter of the bottle gone. What was he going to do now? Maybe this Exchange boss would take umbrage with him. Maybe they would not even care. A part of him wanted to go out and do something, but the bigger part of him just wanted the fight to come to him for once. He was getting tired of running blindly into one. Besides, what was he really going to be able to achieve? "Slice his throat while he's sleeping soundly, slice his throat while he's sleeping soundly. Slice his throat while he's sleeping soundly, early in the morning..." For the first time in a long time, Willam could not run. He had always had an "out" before, some clever solution that saved his skin. Bribing, seduction, flattery and intimidation, even shooting first when all else failed. He doubted any of that would work on the Chorus... though he had certainly charmed Ylva to a small extent. The captain mentally shuddered. "Ooo-way, and up she rises. Ooo-way, and up she rises. Ooo-way, and up she rises, early in the morning..." Half the bottle gone. Nice buzz going. His metal fingers clinked on the glass and his bionic eye whirred near silently as it focused on the liquid within. Wonder what I'm going to lose next...

[Neology]

For nearly one full day-night cycle, the Blind Eye had been like its old self again. Anyone with means and sense had left long ago; those that remained didn’t want to face the end of the world sober. But the world had failed to end on time. Hangovers and regrets gripped the whole district as the Singing Spire hung over Nal Hutta and the Smuggler’s Moon like a second sun, strung on a chain with the smaller Verses. The Composer’s call was now an immense pressure at the back of her skull. At least the taunts had stopped, drowned out by a vast ocean. But the nightmares had not. Lidah Faine hadn’t slept properly in days. Nevertheless, she kept trying, laying in bed feverish and miserable in the dark. Her datapad buzzed, casting too-bright light across the ceiling. The alert repeated every five minutes until she gave in, pulling it across the room and into her hand. The Ylva bounty had caught something. She played a few seconds of the video and shut it off, squinting against the light. It seemed to be about the Bothowui mission, in theory redundant – if Jayec had submitted a report. Had he? Lidah rubbed her face and thought about that for a long, indecisive moment. The freelancer’s pay would come out of the mandalorian’s generous salary, she decided. A wave of her hand brought up the lights, a slow transition of warm oranges and pinks meant to mimic a real sunrise. Curiously, the freelancer’s message indicated that they were here, on Nar Shaddaa. She wondered, briefly, where it was that he intended to spend his payment. It could make for a comfortable few weeks – though the latest thing was carbonite freezing. Not unlike what she’d had done to preserve her poor pets. Lidah threaded her arms through a layered green chiffon dressing gown and thumbed on some slippers. She took the lift downstairs. It didn’t take long to locate her guest – he was the only customer in the whole place, and he was singing. A few droids milled around, cleaning or waiting unobtrusively on the guest’s pleasure. Security staff cut through occasionally, rarely glimpsed like exotic hunting cats. Hardworn, these days. Alas, they could not all be sent away. Taking a seat at the bar, Lidah wrinkled her nose at the half-full bottle of garbage water. It seemed somehow bad taste to just watch him drink, but no way was she having that. Lidah ordered a glass of emerald wine and studied the freelancer, brows climbing as she realized she’d seen him before. ”Huh. I think I know you. Edgepoint Station?” The droid bartender set down a dainty fluted glass of shimmering green wine, nearly an exact match for the color of her robe – and various parts of the décor. ”Janus Yarloc is an old friend.” She said, by way of explanation. ”So, you’ve seen Wolfie?

[Blue]

The bottle was half-empty by the time someone else showed up in the bar. Willam stopped mid-verse of his third of forth rendition of the song as the woman took a seat next to him, glanced toward his choice of drink in mild disgust, and ordered a much finer specimen of alcohol. The spacer took the brief opportunity when she looked away to observe his new drinking companion. Her choice of dress was... casual, to say the least. The slippers, the fluffy sleeves. It was the apparel of someone who had just escaped from their bed. Not that I'd blame her. With that Spire hanging over our heads I'd want to sleep the day away, too. Though there was no doubt whatsoever that she was absolutely stunning, she also looked fairly rough, like she had taken ill or had been desperately fighting to get some sleep. Or maybe she's been on a bender. I'm in no position to judge at the moment, in any case. She certainly appeared at home here. Possibly because this could be her home. If that was the case, then she was probably Exchange. Maybe even the top of the ladder; Willam had heard that the Exchange's leader was a human woman called... what was it? Lidah something-or-other. Good chance that this was her. The captain's gaze went smoothly back to his drink as the droid bartender retrieved her order. He could feel her eyes on him, forming opinions. Of my bad taste in alcohol, if nothing else... When the name of that accursed space station left her lips, Willam felt a cold chill shoot through him, flashes of memory flickering through his mind of the twisted rage-filled mob and that final, monstrous thing. How could she know that I was there?! She mentioned a name he did not recognise, as if it would explain it. Then another, clearly a nickname for someone else. The captain paused to take a drink and steady his thoughts, his face studiously blank as he turned in his seat to face her. His flesh and blood hand rose across his body to scratch at the small patch of twisted flesh that was all that remained of his right ear, hidden behind the bulky optical replacement and his short, wavy hair. "I can honestly say that I do not know anyone by either of those names," Willam said mildly, his smooth voice a little husky from the harsh liquor. Speaking of! Another drink. "Of course, that doesn't mean I don't know the person attached to them. People love having more than one name." He may not have been the sharpest tool in the box, but it still was not difficult for the captain to hazard a guess as to who this woman meant. The name Janus was offered as an explanation as to how she knew about the Edgepoint Station incident; that meant that she was referring to either Duster or Juggler, as he had named them in his mind, as the only other people on that damned death trap that was neither dead or insane. Or at least functionally insane. They had not shared names on that ill-fated job, so that meant that she recognised him due to either a description given by this Janus or from a recording. Hopefully the former. The last thing I want is for anyone with proof to associate me with THAT particular madness. As for 'Wolfie'... after their liaison, Willam had dug up more information on Ylva's company, and she had apparently been known to have the moniker 'Madam Wolf'. So that pretty much cleared up any doubt as to who this person was- FAINE! It was Lidah Faine, that was the name. "If by 'Wolfie', you mean Ylva? Yes. Yes, I have seen her. Not since Bothawui, mind you. After that mess I got out of the system as fast as my ship could carry me. I've seen what that dust she was hauling does to people and had no intention of sticking around for a lungful of it. Or when it attracted the attention of those retched buggers." His last comment was paired with a quiet whir of motors as his metal limb pointed to the ceiling in the general direction of space, where the Chorus were sleeping off their latest meal of slug sauteed in arrogance and regret. "So much for that plan!" Willam finished with a light laugh. "Guess my bad luck finally caught up to me. No running from it now." Refilling his small glass, he lifted it up to Lidah in a mock salute. "To Luck! What an utter, rotten bastard it is," he toasted, bringing the foul tasting liquid to his lips once again.

[Neology]

”Really? That’s too bad. Personally, I would not want to fight through a space station with a couple of strangers. You know, without at least getting their names.” Lidah shrugged one shoulder, oblivious to being studied in return. As far as she recalled, Janus never gave any particular alias on jobs – signing holonet posts with a singular ‘J.’ ”Janus is a good friend of mine. He gave me his suit’s recording from Edgepoint. Which I, in turn, sold to the Republic.” Gave was more accurate. That – and all the related data of three other early Archeri incidents – had been forwarded by her slicers to one Locke Nemsee, then presumably gone from there to whoever the Jedi investigator could trust to act on it. Lidah was sure she didn’t need the details. At any rate, a reputation for giving away information like that would not fit her image. She smiled at the freelancer instead, a little gruesomely. With the plague came an alarming frequency to bleed from the gums and nail beds. ”Perhaps JMOC will come to something.” She brightened slightly when he confirmed having spotted Ylva. A pity he could not deliver her the exact location ... ”Of course. Very sensible. It’s just that, you do seem to be in remarkably good health after two separate encounters with the spores.” Lidah’s brow creased even as she said it. She pushed herself to her feet and back several steps of clearance. ”Who are you? One of their infiltrators?” Her left palm filled with Force lightning, shedding little bits of burning feather and sheer fuzz. ”What did you do with your crate?”

[Blue]

"Yes, well, considering that the job was supposed to be simply moving cargo, and cargo of dubious provenance at that, swapping names and other such identifying information hardly seemed appropriate. And we didn't exactly have time for pleasantries when that milk run swiftly soured," Willam countered, a small shudder hitting him. Ugh. For some reason using the phrase 'milk run' made me feel dirty... or maybe it's just this booze kicking in. The knowledge that the crime boss sitting next to him had incriminating evidence of him at the center of an Archeri plague outbreak did little to brighten his mood, nor did her offhand comment about the so-called alliance between the Republic and Empire possibly sorting things out. Willam had little time for either galactic power, and the knowledge that they would be shooting very big guns while standing side-by-side brought him no peace of mind. All it would take is for one sign of weakness, and then the next thing you know there would be a whole new war kicking off. Bad business for small-time freighter captains like himself, that. The captain turned his head to follow Lidah as she stood and moved back, then proceed to conjure a ball of lightning into her hand and inquire who he was, if he was an infiltrator, and what he had done with the cargo from Edgepoint Station. The sight of Force voodoo caused an instinctual flutter of anxiety in his stomach (unless that was the booze), which he suppressed with the ease of a practiced dissembler. Willam gave the Compeer a cold look and a raised eyebrow before swiveling slowly in his seat to face her, holding up his mechanical hand in a fist. "Point, the first," he uttered, in a tone of someone who was one hundred and ten percent done, and raising one his his metal fingers. "If you recognised me from that footage given to you by... Janus?... from Edgepoint Station, you should recall that I was wearing a full body, completely sealed void-suit, which I stripped off in my ship's airlock and is now currently either still floating in space or burned up in Teth's atmosphere. "Point, the second," Willam continued, holding up a second finger. "Once aboard my ship after escaping from that accursed space station, I had my droid fill every pot, pan, kettle and container I owned with water before scrubbing myself raw in the shower for about three hours. I did so in the off chance that my drinking water got contaminated by the water I used to shower. I'm not sure how that would happen but considering how lucky I am, I wasn't taking any chances. I then had the Lathspell thoroughly decontaminated, which cost me a pretty penny, I don't mind admitting." Another finger went up, the captain's expression not wavering despite the crackling energies that the Compeer held steadily in her palm. "Point, the third: I never set foot on the surface of Bothawui, due to Ylva's pet Mandalorian threatening to commandeer my ship. I was decidedly unwilling to remove myself from the Lathspell after that, and the moment I realised what Ylva was really bringing to that poor rock I sealed the ship up and flew out of there as if all the hounds of damnation were after me. Point, the forth: I shot that crate from Edgepoint Station into the first sun I came across. Because while I am a bastard, Ms. Faine, I am a better class of bastard than that." Finally lowering his prosthetic arm, Willam leaned forward slightly and his voice turned into a low growl. "And as for who I am? I am Captain Willam, bloody Void-damned, Scathe. I always will be, and the Black take anyone aiming to take that away from me." For a moment, the captain kept his eye locked onto Lidah's before swinging his body back around to face the bar and reaching over for his glass. "Now, would you kindly stop pointing... that at me," he said, gesturing to the lightning in the Compeer's hand, his voice now back to it's usual smooth and companionable tone, "join me at the bar and continue your drink? I'm sad to say that I'm still far too sober to be dealing with this shit, and you're ruining a perfectly good gown that, I have to say, looks quite flattering on you."

[Neology]

”It’s not at all possible, then, that you screwed up at any point? In all of those moving parts. And of course, this is the first time you’ve been stuck in a closed room with someone that’s sick with it.” Lidah cocked her head to one side, brows raising. She was too tired to be angry for long, her mood tapering off into a kind of amused smugness. ”Mistakes happen, Captain Scathe. The Edgepoint mishap left Janus sick. Weeping Falls infected another of my agents – though admittedly, he did remove his helmet to vomit.” Poor Io’an. Lidah wondered where he’d gone off to, after borrowing one of her ships. Something about Jazen and one of the many worlds fallen to the Chorus ... In any case, she didn’t feel that the strange man was lying to her. As miserable as she was, the plague had sharpened her connection to the Force, a painful appreciation of the senses. She could carry on this whole interaction with her eyes closed and not miss any of the subtleties. ”Your concern for my gown is noted.” The lightning fizzled away into static and loose sparks. Lidah patted herself out, trailing a thin line of smoke at the edge of her sleeve. ”If you hadn’t destroyed that crate, I think I’d be quite compelled to kill you. Strike back for the Galaxy, etcetera.” She gave herself decent chances: cranial cybernetics and electricity didn’t mix. Yet safer by far to rely on the Blind Eye’s security. That she had personally threatened the spacer was only further proof that she wasn’t feeling herself at all. Lidah picked up her wine and sipped it daintily. ”You seem to know who I am, at least in part. Now, why aren’t you running out that door shouting ‘Ah! A Sith!’ right now?” She set herself back down on the barstool, angled slightly toward Willam. ”But since you’re still here, tell me more about your run-in with Ms. Vuk and … What did you call him? Her pet Mandalorian. That must be Jayec Veth. Are you saying that he was helping her propagate the disease at Bothowui? Why would he need your ship?” Lidah rubbed her temple, expression draining away to a professional near-blank. The fingers of her other hand tightened on the bar. ”Doesn’t matter right now, but listen to me. Ylva was exposed to the plague while working for me, investigating rumors of a new spice. I have a direct responsibility to see to her welfare as best I can. Veth, whatever his interest … I don't know if I can trust it. When a stranger can walk in off the street and tell me more than he has.”

[Blue]

Willam snorted as Lidah listed the possibility of him screwing up down the line, then noted that he was now in an enclosed space with someone afflicted with the plague. He responded with a shrug, accompanied by a whir of servos, and raised his drink to his lips again. "Considering that I didn't even run a mild temperature after those encounters, nor have I heard any harmonious music or felt the desire to be one with any mushrooms, I'd say that I was pretty successful up to this point," he pointed out. "As for the here and now, well, it hardly matters at this juncture. I couldn't run if I wanted to; the Archeri ships would blast my poor sweet girl to scrap before I had the chance to jump to hyperspace. Maybe. She is pretty nimble with my hands on her. Wouldn't rate my chances high, though. So it would seem that, this time, I'm waiting on a miracle. Void knows, I'm owed a little good fortune." The offhanded comment about killing him if he had sold on the crate to 'strike back for the Galaxy' forced out a short bark of laughter from the captain. The announcement that she had previously been a Sith did not elicit the same mirth, however. "Ah yes, the famous philanthropic spirit that leaders of criminal organisations are so renowned for. How lucky the galaxy is to have such stalwart guardians. And please, do regale me of the tales where turning your back on a Sith ended well for the runner," he uttered witheringly. He shifted himself to face her better as she sipped her wine with all the grace of a high-born lady. "For the record, I had no clue that you were a Force user. Shouldn't have surprised me, though. I'm starting to think that everybody I've met over the last few months were secretly able to utilise it... It also wouldn't be the first time I've had to kill someone who came at me with a ball of lightning. I've lived a violently eventful life, sadly." To emphasise the statement, the bottle next to him clinked as his mechanical hand went to pour more into his glass, only from a small dribble to patter into the bottom. Willam sighed, muttering "Bugger" under his breath, then turned back to the Compeer as she asked her questions. The events surrounding them both appeared to be taking a toll on the woman... unless that's the plague stabbing at her mind. Wonder how long she has before she's singing from the same song sheet as them. "In my general experience, Mandalorian's do whatever they want, and Void take the hindmost," Willam said, his lip curling slightly in distaste. "The only reason they'll do anything you want them to is if they so happen to be going the same direction anyway." The captain maintained the silence a little longer, then sighed. "But as much as I would love to drop that dung-for-brains brute into deep trouble with a crime boss, he isn't working with Ylva. To his credit, the moment he realised what she intended to do, he tried to stop her by force. No. The reason I referred to him as her 'pet' is because I'm fairly sure I kept catching him shooting puppy-dog eyes at Ylva's back whenever he thought nobody else was looking." Willam snorted at the memory, though he neglected to mention that Ylva herself had displayed a few subtle tells that indicated that such an arrangement might not be unwelcome to her. The captain lapsed into silence, rotating his empty glass in his hands as he awaited Lidah to get on with asking the question that she wanted to verbalise. He could already hazard a guess at what the request might be, but it would be very rude to simply jump to conclusions before she could spit it out.

[Neology]

“Yes, of course.” Lidah rested her chin in her palm, eyes half-lidded. “I’m the unreasonable one here. Your ship and person are absolutely sterile and you’ve never told a lie in your life. Silly of me, to think you might be capable.” The spacer’s sarcasm was beginning to grate on her, a strange mix of prickly fussing and offhanded flattery. She wasn’t she what the intended message was, there. I dislike the Republic, the Empire, your associates, and you personally … But your breasts look nice? She snorted at the thought. Her posture stiffened as Willaim continued to air his thoughts, comments about crime lords and philanthropy. She put down her glass and leveled a particularly flat stare at the spacer. ”What would you do, then? To save the Galaxy from the Chorus, or just to ‘fix’ Nar Shaddaa.” Lidah drained her glass and reached over the bar, searching for the nearest point-of-sale kiosk. Telekinetically, she tapped in a quick sequence. ”I’ve been here for nearly eight years. Slaving is down in all of my sectors, the worst of the love hotels are long gone, and the ones that remain self-manage. But it is slow work. The Hutt clans were not a few little gangs that you could turn your nose up at, Mr. Scathe. They were the law here, and for light-years in every direction. “So yes, this moon is lucky to have me. Doubly so if any of us live to see the other side of the Archeri invasion. You don’t want to see complete lawlessness on this overcrowded rock.” A small repulser-lift droid was dispensed by a locking slot in the wall. It circled the floor, then landed on the bar beside Lidah. It played a cheerful musical chime and disgorged a venom green credstick from its insect-like body. She offered it to Willam. The plastic was an exact color match to her gown. ”Here is your payment for the holo clip. Two hundred and fifty peggats in house credit.” She gestured around at the Blind Eye. ”That should keep you very comfortable while you wait on your miracle. If and when Nar Shaddaa is liberated, you may cash out the remaining balance.” Lidah stood and shooed away the little droid. ”The bounty for further information on – or the live capture of – Ylva Vuk still stands.”

[Blue]

Oh, please. Spare me the spiel of the acts of kindness committed by a bloody Sith-turned-crime boss. You feed on suffering now as much as you doubtlessly did when you still served your Empire. The Exchange deal in misery and profit from pain as much as the damned Black Suns or the Hutts or any number of other such organisations; if you did not, you'd be out of bloody business and eaten alive, you self-righteous, hypocritical witch! The anger bubbled up in Willam's heart at Lidah's exposition, the credit chip ignored, his lips beginning to curl into a snarl of disgust and fury, his thoughts racing towards acts of blessed, empty-minded violence- What am I doing? Why am I even here? I did not come to fight. Did I? Am I really angry at this woman? Put such things to where they belong; the Chorus killed those people. The Chorus took Bothawui. The Chorus plotted all that out. This is not on her. Recall yourself. Willam's expression shifted with a deep sigh and he took the chip, turning back to the bar. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion and the captain shook his head, dropping the chip on the surface next to his empty glass. "My apologies, Compeer," he said, his words heavy with weariness but nevertheless sincere. "The past months have been trialsome, and I am not my usual self. Two attempts of clandestine forces trying to rope me into committing war crimes of a planetary scale will do that to a person... especially when one succeeds and adds the weight of billions of lives onto ones conscience. Over my inglorious career I have had to end lives in acts of self-defense, scores of them. It maybe even in the hundreds at this point. Comes with the territory. But several billion people, gone, with my aid. No matter how ignorant I was of Ylva's intentions, I still assisted in getting her and her vessel full of death onto Bothawui's surface in one piece. That may take a little while for me to come to terms with. And though that does not excuse the boorish manners that I have inflicted upon you, it might at least provide you with context as to the matter of my inflamed sense of cynicism." After a moment of silence, and in a show of optimism that he had heretofore failed to display, Willam swiped the credit chip and pocketed it to be spent at a later date before raising a finger to his ear to activate his commlink. "Odd, I need you to hop into the security systems around town, the low priority ones, and start searching for anyone that looks like that Zabrak woman we entertained... Yes, that Zabrak woman... No, Odd, not because of that. Because we have a new job to do." His droid companion cut the link with a remarkably human-like dirty chuckle to get on with their new task, and Willam pushed himself onto his feet as well. "With the Archeri Chorus fleet hanging around upstairs and a new Spire gestating on ground, I'm going to hazard a guess and say that Ylva is probably coming back to be here when it's done and to... complete the 'Great Journey', ascend to a higher plane, sing in a hymn circle, whatever the Chorus promises it's dupes. And if she's on Nar Shaddaa, I'll be able to find her, and drag her horny arse back here."

[Neology]

The spacer’s anger was a noxious, psychic stench. Force Lightning might not be the right tack after all – Lidah had always been much stronger with telepathic assaults and commands, though she disliked using them on the Force-blind. It seemed a violation. Darkside, lightside, it didn’t matter. A lack of choice was the worst evil she could think of. She had met Jedi who felt differently. Who thought artificially created happiness was an effective solution to grief or anger or any other honestly earned emotion. And it would be a lie to say there wasn’t a small part of her that wanted to put this odd, sarcastic man firmly in his place. When she had been Sith, strangers trying to pick fights she didn’t understand was a common enough occurrence. Sit down, shut up. Check that the safety on your gun is on and then place the barrel firmly between your teeth ... She was ready – but he was welcome to take that first step over the edge and into the Abyss. For the sake of her conscience, which was a remarkably silly thing to let control her. Unexpectedly, the spacer walked himself back. Lidah cocked her head and stared at his shoulders, listening carefully as he spoke. It was difficult to switch mental gears, from self-defense in her customarily brief and brutal style to … What did this call for? Sympathy, she supposed. No, she wasn’t going to do that. This wasn’t the time for soul searching, or sad anecdotes about Taris and leaving the Sith once and for all. Judging from the man’s mood swings, he wouldn’t take it well anyway. That was just fine. She didn’t talk about those things to anybody. ”I accept your apology, Captain Scathe.” That was as far as she would bend, allowing him the title he’d introduced himself by. ”That does seem likely, yes. Very clever of you to figure that out. Do call us when you find her.” Lidah dismissed him with a vague wave of her hand, then headed upstairs. There was a bubble bath waiting with her name on it.