Off to the Races (Lat)

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

“Its entries tha' ah cannae handle, lass. Always 'ave tae fly wit' a copilot... ye should'a seen Archer when we... well, ah suppose tha' is a story best served wit' drink.”

She smacked her palm to her forehead at that…hard. How many times was he going to have to tell her that before she remembered? Shaking her head, she sighed a bit, but didn’t say another thing about it as they moved into the Corellian pub. Once they were seated comfortably, he finally replied to something she’d said. Typical, quiet, Sev…she’d almost forgotten how little he talked. Poor man must have been shell shocked…she should try to tone things down a bit, but gorram it was just sooooo good to see him! His reply to her comment about hunting him down had her shaking her head and sighing. ”Yeah, well…was on Center Point Station most of the time, so it wasn’t like I could really do that anyway…still woulda been nice to hear from you guys though,” she said honestly as Katee had arrived.

Was Sam embarrassed by the young woman? You had better believe it…that blush said it all. While Sam was, most certainly, a flirt and typically had no problem with people assuming what they liked, but for some reason the “so who’s your new beau, he’s cute” look the girl had given her had the typically unflappable pilot more than embarrassed. Thing was, she didn’t rightly know why. “Another pint ‘o spiced, lassie. An’, two Corellian Whiskey. Ol’ friends deserve a treat.” Now that had her blinking. She knew it hadn’t been that long ago, but did he really remember that was what she usually…nah, he wouldn’t remember something like that. Still…she was about to ask when he grinned at her and leaned forward, speaking in an almost conspiring and hushed voice.

“Worried aboot giv’n ‘er th’ right impression?”

Gray eyes widened considerably, that blush threatening to come up again. As it was she couldn’t help but let out a surprised little, ”what?!” in reply, accidentally cutting over the second half of what he was saying. Shaking her head and trying to wrestle down this new fit of embarrassment, she pushing against the stationary table with both hands to press herself back against the bench seat and get some room. Goddess knew she felt she needed a bit of it right now.

”Heh, yeah…like I said, I found it, stepped inside, and wondered if I was back in that dive on Corellia.”

Thankfully getting that out, and his laughter, had helped calm her enough to settle in again. She watched him watch her and chuckled, flashing him that impish grin that had always meant mischief. True it was a bit more benign this time around, but the quirkiness was still obvious in it. Damn it was good to have him around again. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Archer or Hunter, but…they just weren’t the same. Brathos and Sev had always been her favorites and, well, one of those two was gone now. It made her appreciate the other just that much more. Frelling table was in the way, too; couldn’t give good hugs across a table.

Blasted table.

She nodded quietly, listening to what he’d done, the ships he’d been on…but his comment about living the life of a soldier irked her. Badly. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried for the same life…she had. He’d been there. He’d also been there when she’d gone down, had seen her when she was healing, knew what had happened to her and why she wasn’t allowed to stay a military pilot, not to mention this recent mess…yet here he was, talking like he’d endured so much more. Huffing at his ‘footnote’ line, she moved so she could lean her back against the wall and prop one foot up on the bench, looking out at the pub. Sighing, she let herself actually absorb the place again…the greens and holographic ships and pictures of pilots and their ships, of the Corellian ship yards, of the palace with the owner and his family front and center. A recent vacation picture it seemed since she didn’t remember it from last time she’d been in here.

Must have been nice, going back…

“Archer an’ I dropped intae Subterrel in th’ ‘hawk, lass. A HALO jump in a fixed wing aircraft! Tha’ was somethin’ else.”

Looking back over at him, she gave Sev a bright smile and paid a bit more attention. ”Well are you gonna tell me about it, or just tease me with it,” she questioned, smirking a bit and half leaning on the tabletop as she toyed with the pepper shaker. ”C’mon man, I want some details.”

[Latus]

It was just something about being around her, the cocky, smug, friendly smirks and quips that made him love being around her so much. In the olden days she was just a wingmate, a pilot whom he could order around like any of the others in his squad but years of fond thoughts and reminiscing about the the past had turned it into something more. She had transcended into the realm of friendship and to Sev there was nothing he needed more. The moment their conversation passed from the realm of the present into the nearly golden glitter and glare of the past everything seemed to ease. Maybe he was just thinking wishfully but Sam seemed to share his thoughts, some of them at least.

”Yeah, well…was on Center Point Station most of the time, so it wasn’t like I could really do that anyway…still woulda been nice to hear from you guys though,”

Sev only nodded. He needn't do more as he had been to Centerpoint station before and didn't think highly of the massive space-station. The conversation seemed to flow seamlessly from one point to another and, at each turn, he kept his gaze firmly placed on the young woman. Every now and then he would glance away toward the bar but only for an instant before returning his soft color shifting eyes to her. The response she offered by his pining about his own hardships did upset his composure, however.

Jobby... that was the wrong thing to say here.

He rarely complained about his lot in life. Even saying it was a complaint was a bit of a stretch but Sam's loss, her crash, had deprived her of something that he lived for. Admittedly the life of a soldier was hard but it was fulfilling; Sam never received anything remotely like that. And now she was in the company of career criminals on a daily basis... Sev's stomach hit the seat. He almost apologized but her change in facial expression when she looked away to study the bar made him pause. Did she hate him for it? Did she resent him for carrying on? Quickly Sev put the idea out of his head; there were so many better things to think about.

Like the waitress returning with the four glasses. As the girl neared and his bit about the HALO drop came through Sam's attantion became more firmly attached to him.

”C’mon man, I want some details.”

Oh yeh. Lemme tell yeh...

Sev paused for a moment. The mission was privileged information to everyone but the soldiers and commanders. Smiling he ran his eyes around the loud crowded bar, looking for anything suspicious. The din of the patrons and his lack of anything visible reduced his concerns.

Was tha' subtle eno'? Sev laughed a moment. Let me see... Th' ascension passed intae law orbit tae drap us aff sae anythin' mair than air-tanks woods be unnecessary. Jenning's conversion was an air-tight cockpit which woods keep th' air in an' th' vacuum an' toxic subterrel atmosphaur oot. I remember passin' it when we burst atmo an' comin' tae abit twenty kliks frae th' ventilation doors.

Sev stopped speaking as the waitress returned and deposited the two pair of glasses onto the table. Picking up his ale he put the chilled glass to his lips and drank in the wonderfully familiar taste of alcohol and spices. It tasted heavenly. The whiskey would be next!

Thank ye, lass.

As she left he followed her with his eyes until she was out of earshot. With that ensured his gaze returned to Sam, his mood had increased dramatically.

We waur comin' in hot. Tae hot in fact. The entry coatin' oan th' hull hud turned red wi' heat an' Ah hit th' afterburners. Th' vents whooshed open an' we slipped in wi' only a meter ur two tae spaur Th' instant we waur in we slipped intae howre mode an' took stock in th' near blackness. Th' redness dimly lit th' cavern an' wouldn't ye know it th' nose was scrapin' th' stalactite in front ay us. we waur 'at accurate...

Sev paused only to take a drink of his ale and gather his thoughts. There would be tie for questions after he was finished. That particular battle was so hectic he wondered if he could remember it all.

Go' th' attack ord'r from our commander, ay Crassus Vossk, an' hovered, tae tight fer flight mode, intae th' ventilation tunnels dodgin' rock formations th' size ay a space cruiser. Our targit waur pirates in a body ay th' main cavern, a capture mission. we waur sent in tae provide close air support. Sev's smirk widened. That was something the Sevens did only too well. We burst th' main cavern jist as th' first shots waur bein' fired. Th' openness surprised me but allowed us tae switch tae flight mode. Archer took gunner an' we buzzed th' compoond.

Quickly he nabbed the few things on the table and set up an impromptu scene of the attack using the salt shaker as his Firehawk.

The fire directed at us was very light as no one wanted tae cause a cave-in but we took uir shaur ay blaster fire. As th' main infiltration force moved in we used eight-eights tae clear it th' heavy repeaters an' web launchers. Hit-n-run tactics worked th' best until th' heavier things waur taken care ay. We got th' call abit five minutes in 'at th' entrance point needed tae be blown... Sev glanced up and took a quick sip of his ale. Remember th' AA-19s? Placed one deid center oan th' main door; blew it doon. Sev moved the salt-shaker in a collision course with the napkin holder and lightly tapped the lid. After th' marines went in we turned uir attention back tae th' wee tangos oan an' aroond th' structure.

Smiling Sev sat back and put both hands behind his head.

Th' op was done in jist under twenty minutes. Th' pirates an' marines waur extracted via dropship an' we broke atmo at twenty thee minutes. Th' venoms hud cleaned up most ay th' trash in space by 'at time an' we waur aff at thirty minutes once everyone was aboard. A good clean mission.

Sev smiled again and put his hands back on the table about half way over, palms up. He was afraid he had started something between the two of them though it was probably more inevitable than he cared to acknowledge; they would be talking war stories all night.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

If she remembered only a few things of Sev (which, not surprisingly, she remembered quite a bit more than just a few things) his storytelling was riveting. The younger woman might have gone so far as to say that it seemed to be part of his very nature to be able to weave a good tale out of something. Then again, she was biased as a former fighter pilot…just about anything dealing with missions involving a fighter or jet held her attention. In fact, she’d turned and sat on her shins, leaning on the table, watching him and listening with rapt attention to his story. Katee was barely noticed as she arrived, grey eyes only turning to the girl as the cups were set before them. This was followed by a supernova of a smile to the girl and a chipper ‘thanks Katee’ before taking a drink of the cool liquid, letting it slide down her throat as he finally continued.

Setting the mug down, she held it tightly in both hands…absorbing the cold of it as well as giving them something to do to keep from fidgeting as she listened. It was an awkward, and bad, habit she had…one that made more than a few others believe she was getting bored or not paying attention. Of course, this was typically far from the case, but that didn’t mean others knew that, or believed her when she said so. Despite this effort, she turned the mug this way and that in her hands as she tried to visualize the scenario he was laying out before her.

“We waur sent in tae provide close air support.”

Snickering, she nodded. Of course they were…that’s what the Sevens did, after all…provided close air support, and when air support wasn’t an option, they doubled as ground support. She watched as he set up the items on the table to give her a better image of what had gone on, her eyes turning from him to follow the salt shaker’s path and his motions to the different items as he spoke. Once in a while she would nod at something he’d said, or furrow her brow as she either agreed or disagreed with the tactics employed. When he asked if she remembered the AA-19’s her face all but lit up. Boy did she! Those were her favorites…big booms, lots of explosion…they made the pyro in her very happy, not to mention they were part of the reason she had her current nickname. ”Oh yeah…I remember those beauties…” she replied and nodded solemnly, despite the solid smile on her face. His comment on blowing down the main door had her replying with a quiet “niiiiiiiice” and an impish chuckle.

As he finished his tale, Sam shifted so she was no longer sitting with her legs under her and leaned back with a low whistle, her hands letting go of the cup to grip the edge of the table as she pushed back slightly and stretched. ”Wow…musta been nice, Sev…musta been real nice.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she replayed the scenes in her head again and sighed. It must have been ‘real nice’ indeed. Envy poked it’s head in to say hello to her emotions before she swiftly shut it down with another sigh and blinked herself back into reality, looking over at him and smiling. ”That does sound like one hell of a trip.”

[Latus]

Only Sam. Yes, only his female squad-mate ever listened to him with such rapt attention. Tales were never his thing because these kind of recantations were something you told to grandchildren and arrogant new soldiers that had their finger on the trigger. Even so, he never minded retelling battles to Bomber, even when they were both still pilots. Of course, back then it was only spectacular kills and fancy maneuvers. "I put a blaster burst into his engine and he..." and so forth. He couldn't help but smile as Sam shifted to a crouch on her seat; ah, there's the feeling of nostalgia.

”That does sound like one hell of a trip.”

His thoughts drifted back to her as she gave a few short quips of response. Sev could see the thoughts whizzing behind her eyes, imagination of the days that the Sevens were truly glorious. Sev even allowed himself to do the same. He could feel the rumble of the Firehawk around him, the minuscule jumps on the stick that spoke of wind direction and strength, the shudder of canon fire. He smiled openly.

Good times.

Picking up his glass of Corellian Whiskey he raised it.

To the Sevens, to memories... to Corellia.

He waited until Sam acknowledged and clinked her glass. With a single motion he shot half the small glass, the warm liquid tingling and searing as it went down. There was still a little left...

Reachign his free hand over the table he grasped one of Sam's and gave it a squeeze. She was an odd one. For so long he had seen her as a child, as the little sister of the entire squadron despite all the men wanting after her. As much as he wanted to keep seeing her as such he knew that Sam was more than that. She was more of a pilot than many of the men were and, in some cases, less of a child. Her antics, the sitting on the knees, the bright eyes at descriptions of explosions, the giggling... that was just Sam. It was what made her unique... it was what made her feel less like a daughter. More of a...

His thoughts froze in his head as one glaring word came back to him like a bout of nausea; Bha'lir. The warm glare in his eyes dulled and he placed the glass back down. His concerns had won out in the end and the soldier couldn't help but feel the need to know. He just hoped Sam would be open to him.

An what aboot yeh? Ye been living th' life o' a racer or...

Releasing his hand he crossed his fingers in front of his mouth. He hated to be such a killjoy like this but... well, he just needed to know.

Th' Bha'lirs, lass? Ah reserve nae judgments fur anyone much less ye. Ah trust ye to make th' right decisions fur yerself but... Tell me th' whole thing. Why are ye hangin' 'round wit' th' likes o' them?

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Yeah…good times.

The Sevens had been real good times, and he was right in seeing her thoughts drift back to the Seven’s time in the skies of Corellia. What a hell of a ride that had been, too. Everything she’d expected and more. Take everything she’d loved about piloting for the Bha’lirs with her dad, take out all of the criminal activity, and there you had the Sevens…it had been her dream job, it really had been. So lost in thought was she that she barely noticed Sev take of his whiskey glass and raise it in her direction. Following suit, she smiled and nodded. ”To the best memories, places and people in the galaxy,” she replied, tapping her glass against his with a cheery tinkle of glass on glass before downing the shot in one go.

Heh, now there was a burn she liked!

It even brought a tear to her eyes with the sensation, and as his hand slipped over hers and squeezed, she returned the favor with a grin as the flavor of the whiskey finally worked through her tastebuds. Typically she was one to nurse the drink, so a shot like that stung a bit more for her than it seemed to for him, but then, Sev had always seemed to get over that kinda thing easily. She shook her head a bit and chuckled at herself before sighing slightly. No doubt that now, not only would he still think her a lightweight, but be seeing her as more of an overgrown child than ever. Sure, she’d acted like he were telling her some really good bedtime story, and sure she’d played around and laughed and giggled and acted like a complete fool sometimes, but it was habit as well as personality. It wasn’t really her fault that she was such a happy person…life was just better when you tricked yourself into being happy all the time. Things didn’t seem so bad, and you could make your way through just about anything if you tricked others (and yourself) into thinking that there wasn’t a care in the world.

It had worked for her so far…and on more than one occasion. It also tended to make others view her as weak minded, weak willed, or little more than a ‘ditzy blond’…and most times that was just fine with her. That simply meant that it was easier to surprise others when she proved them wrong in their preconceptions of her. There were times, however, like now, where she didn’t want her happy, excitable, and bubbly personality to have that effect. Sure Sev knew she wasn’t weak minded, weak willed, or just plain ditzy, but that wouldn’t stop the possible misconception of him seeing her as an over excitable child.

She had been about to say something about that exact thing when he spoke up again, catching her off guard with his questions. Gray eyes blinked at him from across the table before wandering off to the side as she attempted to formulate an answer. ”I…don’t know where to start on that, Sev.” The answer was an honest one…where did one start? Should she start at the beginning, where her life started? Or should she start from recent events? Sighing she decided the best place to start any story was at the beginning and she knew she hadn’t told him, or any of the other Sevens (aside from Brathos) about her past, aside from the fact that her brother was a mechanic who occasionally did jobs for the military, or that her father had died after a run in with some pirates, and that was why she constantly had his jacket around on missions.

”Well…um…this is going to take a while because…because really, for you to understand, I need to start at the beginning. Like…my birth kind of beginning.” She sighed a bit and watched his reaction seriously. Seriousness…now there was something people rarely saw in Samantha’s demeanor, some even questioned if she was capable of it, yet here she was, just as serious as serious could be. After waiting several moments to gauge his reaction, the younger woman proceeded. ”You see…I was supposed to be a twin. Unfortunately my mum and the second twin died in birth. From what my dad said, she was really the only reason keeping him on Corellia. Thing is, dad was a Bha’lir prince. Oren always told me about how he would come back from jobs and have new stories to tell, but when mom died, he uprooted and took us with him because he didn’t trust our uncle with us and dad didn’t have any of his own family still alive. So, Oren and I grew up Bha’lirs. I was an apprentice by the time I was five…not that I minded much. The other Bha’lir were friendly, and Athar was one of dad’s closest friends. Besides, things were always interesting, and no matter where we went, dad made sure to do what he could to help people out.

Heh…I remember asking him once why he always tried to help everyone…he said because it’s one of the Bha’lir’s rules…to give back to the community, and that we were never supposed to profit from the weakness of others….

Anyway, dad and the Bha’lir were the ones to teach me to be such a good pilot, and when that job went south and the pirates…Well, Oren had been done with being a Bha’lir for a long time, and had gone to start work as a mechanic, so I went to him, trying to decide what to do with myself. I had enough of the smuggling life at that point too, and was looking for something I could do that I could like…really my only options were military life or freighting, but…I just couldn’t stomach the thought of freighting as a way of life. I mean, sure, it gave back to the community…sort of…but it just didn’t settle right, so as soon as I turned 18 I joined up…you know all about that bit, right up through what got me out here again.

See, after all of that, being kidnapped and Ryn the jedi…well…grey jedi I…no, wait, he went back to the temple…anyway…during all of that, we met up with Athar again after a nasty run in with Greegar the Hutt on Tatooine (and let me tell you, it is not fun being a slave girl for one of them). So, when Ryn left and I had the Exodus back…I went back to Socorro to try and speak to the Tribunal about what had happened. I didn’t want them thinking they had to ‘prepare the way’ or anything because I didn’t uphold the code. See technically I never stopped being a Bha’lir, and the last thing I needed was to have them after me for dishonoring them. Well I ran into Athar there, and him being a prince for quite a few years got me in to see them through one of the Old Guard. Turns out they’d heard about what was going on from Athar and from my time with dad I was due a rank now I had the Exodus back.”

She sighed a bit, taking her mug up again and gazing into the liquid darkly. Her voice had been little more than hushed tones, and her eyes flicked about every once in a while to be sure they weren’t going to be disturbed. Not a trace of that bubbly and lively girl was shown about her face or posture as she lay out the details of her situation to Sev as simply as possible. That didn’t make it any easier on her, however. She knew he didn’t like crime, or those involved with crime, much less organized crime.

”So I accepted the rank and am working with Athar on a job from them. We needed a bit or money for it, and so this was the best place to do it with my skills. Really, they’re about as good a family as the Sevens were, only not considered ‘legal’…I can get the help I need if and when I need it, the other members look to me for help just as much as I look to them.”

Looking over at him steadily, she watched his eyes and expression carefully as she tried to gauge his reaction once again. Did he hate her for being a Bha’lir? Did he even understand what it meant to be a Bha’lir? Did he understand what was expected of them in their daily lives and in the grand scheme of things? She didn’t believe so, considering his previous words and tone…but she had to make him understand, at least a little bit.

“You know…you might not believe me but…the Bha’lirs actually have a moral code, Sev…one that we have to uphold or pay grave consequences. This includes honoring the vyvya, giving back to the community, and not just our community, but every community we come across. We aren’t allowed to profit from other people’s weaknesses, or play dirty…it’s cowardly and evil. We must respect others at all points, no matter what. The right of aa’kua is one of our most important tenets…disrespecting another individual or their space is…not a good idea for any Bha’lir to do. If we break these or dishonor the Black Bha’lir in any way are marked as doomed individuals and we’re expected to be willing to eliminate anyone who the Tribunal has marked…and that takes quite a lot of evidence to do.

In return for following this code we’re given allies and support, and safe haven if we need it. We aren’t trained to work for personal gain alone, but for the good of all of our members and our communities. It’s rare that we get this involved, but occasionally we’ll band together to help groups fighting for a worthy cause, such as freedom from tyranny, and we don’t expect payment from them. Other groups have turned to us as well for help, and we are always expected to support worthy causes for very little pay. The only ones the Bha’lir every wish to harm openly are the Hutts, I promise you that Sev…so please, don’t think poorly of us because we are, technically, outlaws…”

Sam sighed heavily at that, tearing her eyes away from him and looking down into her cup. Certainly he said he didn’t hold any judgments, but she couldn’t help feeling like this whole thing was going to leave a bad taste in his mouth and sour him to her company. That thought alone had her eyes glistening with tears as she struggled to keep hold of herself through an internal monologue of how he wouldn’t ever be that way, that he knew her better than that, that he knew she wasn’t just some heartless criminal…but…that didn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ and it didn’t stop the fact that he’d basically just insulted (albeit mildly) the group that she’d grown up in…not a one of which (that she’d met) had a cruel bone in their bodies unless it came to 1) the hutts or 2) someone doing an injustice to those weaker than themselves to better their own ends.

Swirling the liquid in her mug around, she lifted it and took a long drink...oh how she'd needed it after that.

[Latus]

From the instant Sam spoke the atmosphere changed dramatically. The pair had been close for such a long time it was not difficult to empathize even on such a level as they did. The rugged man knew how the sprightly young woman operated but quite honestly knew very little about the very personal thing he regarded as her past. Never had there been a need for her to speak on it openly and now, with only a few words Sev came close to a feeling of regret. For all the years he had killed, seen men die in horrific manners, tortured both mentally and physically he never thought he could honestly regret something so much. But it wasn't himself that he ached for;

It was Sam.

Taking a deep breath he crossed his fingers in front of his mouth and set his elbows on the table. Like Sam and his story the soldier knew that he would not have to say a word. Her voice got quiet and the words that came from her mouth sounded like soft rain on the cockpit; he wondered if that was just for him or if his counterpart could feel it, too. As they hit a strange kind of understanding began to build, eyes jumping back and forth as synapses fired but he didn't interrupt. Some of it almost seemed pointless, aimless as she spoke but not once did she fail to explain something or at least make it clear. Her birth into the Bha'lirs, the death of her father by the hands of pirates; even though it appeared quickly it hit home to the soldier. Long had he known her hatred of pirates but only partially understood why.

He nodded to this as a blush of blue seeped into his eyes. It started at the iris and streaking outward before pooling along the edges of the cornea. Sev's expression didn't change but he was aware of the subtle shift. For now that would be his only response.

Gradually her story changed. Dropping from the realm of the past into things more present that also hit closer to home for Sev; the years with the sevens were a footnote but at least they seemed to be held in high esteem by the young woman. The march foreword continued from better times to worse as she met a jedi, had a rough encounter with a Hutt (if there were any other type), and finally to the actual dealings with the Bha'lirs. Athar, the Exodus, a job; the blue drained form his eyes, replaced with only the barest hint of pale red. Only then did Sev allow his own emotions to get caught up in what she was doing.

Sam had been a soldier of the Republic for some of the best years of her life. How could she just blindly turn her back to the law? At this point Sev kept a careful grasp on the shifts in his eyes, his expression not changing as he blinked once. Twice.

Did he hate her? No.

As her words resumed it changed from rain to a stiff wind, a hint of confidence finally eased into her words and the red drained out of Sev's gaze. He was honestly surprised by her words at first, and his eyebrows subtly furrowed. Morals? A sense of honor? For a moment he mentally attempted to refute her words, to make what he had been told by his superiors take precedent over Sam. He found it to be extremely difficult. Sure he had heard of the Bha'lirs before this but it didn't seem right. Everything he had heard pegged these people as true criminals, some of the worst there were. He had long ago learned that nothing is as black and white as many of the soldiers had been lead to believe but this was something completely different. These were criminals. As he looked at Sam, however, he slowly began to understand that to those that they helped the Bha'lirs were something more, something better than criminals.

Quite suddenly, Sev felt foolish for worrying about something futile. Behind his hands the weak scowl was replaced by a neutral grin and the warmth returned to his eyes accompanied by lines of deep purple. After long she went silent and her eyes became down turned. Silently he took a deep breath, sitting in silence for a moment as the sounds of the cantina slowly filtered back through the atmosphere the pair had created. He watched as her hands wrapped around her mug and she lifted it to her lips. In the same instant Sev had slid out of his seat as quickly as he could. Before she even set the mug down he had slid into the seat beside her. As he looked down at the young woman he almost felt as if his wing-mate had actually grown shorter since she spoke. Perhaps this was something she really needed to free herself of.

Catching her eye he looked into them, Sam's gray eyes the perfect mirror to his.

As a soldier ah see an ootlaw. He paused. But as Adamar ah see someone who ne'er gae up e'en when life got tough. A rogue and scoundrel but also a bonnie lass an' mah wingmate.

Turning he extended both arms around her, one higher because of the seat and a little awkward. Gently he wrapped her in the embrace and pulled her against his chest.

Ye're the Sam ah've always known.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

She had seen it all, though she may not have shown it…all the subtle changes in the color of his eyes. To this day she didn’t know what they all meant, but she knew blue was sadness, it had been in his eyes when he’d confirmed the deaths of those in the canyons to a groggy and still healing Sam, uncertain on if it had been reality or a very vivid, and very bad, dream. She could only guess as to why he might be feeling that way. Certainly she knew it stemmed from his feelings on her history but…the exact reasoning was beyond her, she wasn’t a telepath after all. The red she had never seen before, and while she hadn’t much of a clue as to its meaning…Sam had a few guesses. None of them were good. Seeing that had made her wonder if he’d hate her after this, and for a long moment it seemed like the answer was ‘yes’.

That color didn’t drain or grow, and perhaps that was why she was so very worried. Her concern was more than that of simply losing a wing mate, or even a friend, because of her actions…if it had been Hunter or Archer she would have been upset, yes…but Sam felt like she could have gotten over their anger and rejection of her. Sev…she couldn’t. For some reason, the warm hearted pilot just couldn’t stand the thought of Sev rejecting her because of her choices…and for a moment she wondered if her life with as a Bha’lir was worth the risk. No, she just couldn’t turn her back on her choices like that…she never had before and she wasn’t about to start now, she’d needed to make him understand.

…And so she had tried to do just that.

As carefully neutral as Sev was, Sam was good at reading people…startlingly good. Even without the shifts in his eye color, she could see the doubt and disbelief etched stealthily across his face even before he furrowed his brow, but the red had seeped out of his eyes and that had to be progress. Making certain not to get her hopes up, she had continued on, doing everything in her power to drive home her point: they may be outlaws, but they weren’t criminals. If things could be done legit, they were…if people could be helped, they were…they didn’t stoop to the level of ‘criminal’ if at all possible. Finally, she could do and say no more to help him understand, though she prayed to the Goddess that she could have.

It was out of Sam’s hands now, and in Hers…and Sev’s.

The silence may have lifted from around him, but it was still (almost oppressively) quiet around her. The drink helped…a little. At least it got her able to calm down enough to be able to blink back the tears and not teeter on the edge of what would surely have been an embarrassing breakdown. Unfortunately, Sev had other ideas. Before she could even set her mug down again, he had slid in beside her. Surprised beyond words, she nearly dropped the mug as it hovered mere centimeters over the tabletop. It was swiftly, and carefully, put down. Her eyes remained fixed on that motion, avoiding looking up at him for as long as possible, caught somewhere between shame and the strong urge to curl into him and hug him. With the mug safely down, and thus no further (half decent) excuse to avoid looking at him, she finally gave in to his silent urge to do just that.

His first words bit and tore into her, a muscle in her jaw working slightly as she struggled to keep some semblance of a neutral expression. She wasn’t fooling him, she knew she wasn’t, but it was habit…and protection. He continued, however, and much to her surprise, what he said next wasn’t the nearly unbearable sting of cutting ties, or rejection…it wasn’t even mildly abrasive. If anything it was a reaffirmation that he wasn’t going to do any such thing. Part of her sighed in relief, while the part that had stubbornly refused to accept the idea that he might was shouting a very loud ‘I told you so!’ Sev wasn’t done with surprising her, though…not yet.

Sam found herself pulled against him, and wrapped in a warm embrace that had those tears shimmering in her eyes once more. Moving to return the gesture, she held onto him tightly and pressed her face into his chest as she gave a weak chuckle and sniffed once. Pulling back, she wiped the wetness from her lashes and gave him an apologetic smile before looking down and shaking her head slightly. ”I'm such a big baby…You’d think I’d have toughened up some by now…”

[Latus]

It took a moment, just longer than Sev had anticipated, but the warm and slim shape finally pulled herself into his embrace. It had been a long time... no, it had never happened between the two. The simple action made the sergeant feel like there was something outside the rigorous life he had lead, something precious. He held that something in his arms. For so long he had regarded his wingmate as an equal, as he still did, but as his hands held her against his chest it came as a surprise even in the depths of his consciousness of how slight Sam was, how small, how strong. He doubted he would ever meet another such as her. Nor did he wish to. The life she led seemed to feel unnecessarily complex to him but out of the chaos and void-stuff it had created someone truly unique.

A chuckle and a sniffle heralded her desire to talk again and he obliged her, gently letting her out of the embrace. How long had they been like that? Oh well, who cares! T'was long overdue. For a moment the pair sat in silence as Sam gathered herself. The smile never left Sev's face as he reached across the table to retrieve his mug of Corellian drink. The liquid had just touched his lips as Sam spoke.

”I'm such a big baby…You’d think I’d have toughened up some by now…”

Taking a hearty swig he allowed the cool beverage to wash away the awkwardness he might have felt only a moment before. But now he was confident and set the mug back down with a dull thunk. Extending his free hand he wrapped it around her shoulder and pulled her a little closer, the smile warm across his face.

Ye're nothin' o' th' sort. A big baby wouldn'tae told meh anythin,' affeared ah'd break a few bones. Ye're nothin' if no' brave fer tha'.

The bright tones had returned as did the smile that threatened to swallow his ears. Releasing her from his grip he picked the mug up again and held it between them.

Ah was scared o' tha' topic meself. Ah dinnae need reason tae drink, lass, but ah'll drink tae a lil more understandin' atween friends.

He didn't have to wait long for her response and they drank to the raised glass, Sev felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He truly had been scared of the Bha'lirs, not as to what they could do but for taking one of his closest friends away from him. It was infinitely refreshing to know that Sam hadn't changed one iota. Sighing he sat his mug back down and glanced around the bar, looking for someone he knew wasn't there. Quickly he glanced back down and looked at Sam, a warmth in his eyes that was reflected in the shade of green that had leaked in and permeated the gray irises. In one movement he had leaned over, placed a small kiss on her forehead and returned to his straight position.

Instantly his instincts as a soldier came to life. This was foolish. Getting close to Sam would just lead to him hurting her when he want back to active service. There was no way he could like-like her and not have it be selfish. However a small voice in the back of his mind refuted everything. Sam was Sam was Sam. She hadn't changed in so long... maybe she wouldn't.

Intentionally avoiding her eyes he turned his attention back to the club itself smile becoming neutral. For an instant, an instant it felt like he was back in the old dive on Corellia; the smells of the drunks passed out on the bar, the quirky holovids playing on the walls, holograms of the myriad of Corellian constructed ships... it felt like he was in the Seven's again, if only for a moment.

With his change in seat he also saw the coming and going of the patrons. Only now did he realize that something was starting to feel... off. It wasn't the interaction with Sam but the atmosphere, it had changed. A quick glance later he understood why. A group of four muscled toughs had pushed the door open and roughly booted a drunk out of the way. The din from the rest of the folk quieted almost immediately before resuming. The Sergeant could tell that they wanted something, the small bar quickly smelled of trouble. The one in the lead, a Trandosian in a threadbare vest didn't try to hide his blaster, scanned the bar. Sev's back straightened considerably as he mentally surveyed the situation. It was hard to tell with the green 'bugs' but Sev almost thought it looked right at him. The soldier could think of a few things they were looking for... anti-Republic. Slowly his head moved closer to Sam's.

These tossers friends o' yours?

Maybe she recognized the gear. He sure didn't...

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

((ke’dem osk’y = unbalanced/crazy enemies (old Corellian)
Boska, Sev, chess ko… = let’s go, Sev, be careful (hutteese)
Bhesj = a term of impatience
ofax ets burrin tehn = the air is too heavy here/I have a bad feeling about this))

---

Sam didn’t rightly care how long they’d stayed like that, holding each other, all she knew was that it had felt good and, honestly, she hadn’t wanted to move. There was just something about Sev’s presence that helped calm her down and get some of her mind back into some semblance of normalcy. Certainly he’d always been a good friend, someone she could talk to about (nearly) any of the problems that had come up during her time with the Sevens, but it had never been to this degree. It was actually a big relief to have told him the majority of her history and know that he wasn’t going to turn his back on her for it, or for what she was doing now…and finally she realized that, that had been something she’d always been afraid of. When it came to the stoic and slightly stern man, she never quite knew how he might handle the information and so she hadn’t wanted to risk it.

There were still details she hadn’t shared with him, not so much because of a fear of what he might think, but rather because she just didn’t relish the prospect of reliving them, but eventually she might. Even as he let her go, she didn’t quite move away…just enough to be able to take a drink of her own ale. Oddly, she felt a bit hot in the cheeks, but she couldn’t say she could attribute it to the drink. She just hadn’t had enough for that…but then, why? Shaking it off, Sam set her mug down again as he pulled her a bit closer as he spoke. Chuckling, she shook her head a bit and smiled up at him. ”Nah, I wasn’t ‘affeared’ of you breakin’ a few bones…but, I was still scared of what you might do…or think…” she admitted, blushing a bit and feeling slightly embarrassed about admitting to such a thing.

It was his admittance to being frightened of the topic as well that had her blinking a moment, stunned, before grinning. Taking the hint, she nodded to his words and lifted her mug again as well, taking a long drink. A bit of her, a corner of her mind and emotions, felt a bit disappointed for reasons she couldn’t quite grasp yet. Or perhaps, she was just being stubborn about it and keeping herself blind to why. As he looked down at her again, she canted her head to the side and smiled back at the green that appeared in his eyes. She knew that color, more or less, as well…it meant he was happy. She liked him happy. Smiling up at him, Sam was surprised when he leaned down and gave her a short kiss to the forehead.

Blinking her surprise, a rosy blush worked its way across the tops of her cheeks as her mind finally tapped in to what she was feeling. No way could she actually like Sev…right? They’d been wing mates, friends, that was it…right? And even if she did actually like Sev, he only saw her as a friend, a little sister. That’s all he’d ever seen her as was a friend and little sister, so there was no point in even entertaining the thought…right? Though…since when had he ever gone so far as to kiss her forehead like that? Not even after confirming Brathos’ death had he shown that kind of compassion. Her brother did that sort of thing, but not Sev. Why would he do that now, then?

Unsure of how to proceed, they both looked away from each other, instead scanning the room around them. While Sam’s attention was drawn to a group of drunks singing loudly in one of the far corners, Sev’s had been drawn to other places. Those drunks had actually made her chuckle, reminding her of their little group on Corellia when they were three sheets to the wind. Heck, it was even an Corellian tune they were butchering. As time went on, though, Sev wasn’t the only one feeling like something was off (and not just between them) but in the pub in general. He’d caught it before she had, but once the sound had dimmed a bit near the front, she turned grey eyes in that direction. Immediately she stiffened, eyes going wide in something very close to terror as one of them looked in their direction.

“These tossers friends o’ yours.”

”Holy frelling hells…there’s no gorram way those ke’dem osk’y are here…Goddess please no…Boska, Sev, chess ko…” she urged pleadingly, wanting to go before the pirates knew for sure who she was. As if she the fact that Sam had cursed wasn’t a clue enough at just how upset she was (Sam never cursed if she could help it), the fact that she slipped between old Corellian, basic, and hutteese should have given him another clue. Her added pleading tone and the tight grip she’d taken on the side of his shirt only cemented the fact that she was, quite literally, terrified. The younger woman did all she could to keep control of the trembling that had slowly started to take hold of her, working to take steady and calming breaths, but she recognized the group that was slowly moving in their direction.

”Bhesj, Sev, ofax ets burrin tehn…please, let’s go…before they get here…please.”

It was, however, too late for that. The trandoshan wasn’t the one she was worried about, however…well, she was, but his eyes could be fooled…it was the Noghri with him that she was most worried about. The two had been talking quietly on the way in, and as they made their way over she knew that they knew.

“Hello Zaftig…”

Osik…

“Funny meeting you here…was wonderin’ if we’d get to clean up this loose end. Looks like the cap’n’s gonna be pleased tonight.” Finally the trandoshan turned his eyes to Sev, the noghri and their other two companions fanning out behind him. “And who’s your buddy? I'm guessin’ we’ll have to ‘get through him’ to take you back eh?”

“Heh…she’s frightened…” the noghri grunted quietly, grinning.

”I wish I could say it was good to see you guys, but…y’know…after our last encounter I’ve been trying to just…not…see you again.” Somehow she managed to keep the waver out of her voice, though the grip she had on Sev’s shirt shook slightly every so often until she forced herself to let go of him.

“What? You didn’t like watching your scum of a father die? He deserved it after the osik he pulled!”

”I swear we had no ide—!“ Her words were cut off as the human slammed a hand down on the table, making the mugs (and Sam) jump.

“Don’t give us that BS, Zaftig!”

[Latus]

Things were about to get truly heavy. Where he had worried about the smaller things before, the more personal inner relations between Sam and himself, Sev wondered if these men were the gateway to something much worse. The soldier could do little but pause as Sam's first sentence entered his mind. He could hear it in her voice even though he couldn't understand some of what she said, it passed to Sev in the inflection, in the way the words left her mouth; Sam was afraid. It took only a moment to realize she wanted to leave but by the time she spoke again he knew that they had hesitated too long. Sev could see, no, feel, that these blokes had a bone to pick.

And it wasn't with him?!

“Hello Zaftig…”

Before the Trandoshan spoke any further Sev was already on his feet standing like a sentinel beside the table... as close to between the toughs and the young woman as he could be. His breathing deepened as the quartet fanned out to encompass them both, a human flanking Sev as the other, a Noghri, moved aroud the other side of the table to block an escape route; the sort of move Sev expected.

“And who’s your buddy? I'm guessin’ we’ll have to ‘get through him’ to take you back eh?”

Oh aye... tha's th' plan.

“Heh…she’s frightened…” It was the Noghri who spoke this time and Sev stepped closer to the table, to Sam.

Something didn't set right. As the tough spoke again Sev glanced back at his "date," the look of fear etched cleanly into her staunch yet soft features. His mind churned furiously as he watched the two interact, trying to put two and two together. They both knew each other, which surprised him to a point of disbelief and they didn't seem like the Bha'lirs. Her reaction when they first spotted her was unusual, bordering on illogical fear, even mania. What could possibly drive Sam so far that she would react in such a way, swearing and blindly trying to run. It was something that could turn even the strong willed soldier he once knew into... then it hit him.

He had seen something similar but it had been years ago. They were still flying on Corellia against a group of starfighters. The same type of trepidation, some of the fear shakiness she displayed in that dogfight. Pirates...

“What? You didn’t like watching your scum of a father die? He deserved it after the osik he pulled!”

Bloody hell... Pirates!

It clicked. These bastards knew what had happened with Sam's father... intimately. This was why she was so afraid of them; these were the ones that had a hand in killing her father. They were on the lookout to finish the job started decades ago. These bastards chose the wrong Corellian to mess with. Sev's mind flashed back to the jacket; Sam's father's jacket. The one she had kept close for good luck! Smoothly Sev turned his head to look back at Sam, calculating where the Noghri had walked around the table. Quickly he glanced at the trandoshan, the largest of the four who had moved around behind Sev. The final tough, a rodian, remained staggered behind his leader, one hand tucked inside the front of his vest.

”I swear we had no ide—!“ The human's hand slammed onto the table and Sev saw Sam jump. He stayed still and glanced again to her, hoping to catch her eyes. Sev remained still.

His irises had drained from a bright gray to black. It was no longer just about protecting Sam... it was far more personal.

Take drink. Motion to Sam.

“Don’t give us that BS, Zaftig!”

Right hand up, mug and sharp impact, shatter nasal ridge. Lunge while stunned, fist to celiac plexus. Push back into Rodian...

Besides, Sev was practically sure these bastards wouldn't let Sam go. They wouldn't have brought four were it peaceful. Then again, they didn't figure on her escort; someone who's accent made him more likely to start a punch up after a few drinks. He chuckled inwardly at that.

"You should have known when yer father showed up with that head, Corellian dog. There was no way we were gonna let you live."

That clenched it. Faking a smile Sev put both of his hands up in a submissive gesture.

A'right lads, calm down. We can settle this peaceably... Slowly Sev reached down and wrapped three fingers around the handle of his mug.

"This don't concern you, Republic scum. Its a personal matter. Leave!"

You have no idea.

Slowly bringing the mug to his lips he took a long draw holding it in his cheeks for a long moment before swallowing. Letting out the breath he looked down at Sam, her small form still barely containing the obvious fear. His right eye twitched and a single streak of gold flashed through it. Gently he put his hand on the human thug's shoulder.

But can't we jus' settle thus ov'r a pint?

The moment the human looked up Sev smiled genuinely. The next instant Sev drove the mug into the pirate's face, shattering the glass from the impact and reveling as he felt a dull crack run up his wrist and arm. Shifting his weight back he launched foreword into the tough bringing his left up in a brutal straight jab that connected just below the man's rib cage. The impact raked the air from hsi lungs and shoved him back into the waiting arm of the Rodian who was beginning to pull his blaster. Quickly Sev recovered, air hissing through his teeth as drops of the alcohol mixed with the bloody knuckles on his right. Some of it was his, most was not. Pivoting on his left foot he fluidly bent and ripped his ridged combat knife from its sheath on his boot.

Though his eyes were black a fire burned in them, one that he hadn't ever felt before. The alcohol smoothed the eddges of his nerves and deadened the throbbing soreness that had begun to seep from his hand.

Ye picked th' wrong soldier tae mess wit' taenight! Cmon!

With a roar Sev stepped toward the Trandoshan, knife raised to attack.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Tough as she could be, Samantha was feeling anything but tough right now. No, scared stiff would have been more appropriate in this case. Even as Sev moved to put himself between her and the pirates she was looking for a way out that she knew wasn’t there. She only barely caught Sev’s backward glance at her but she was too busy shying away from the verbal and psychological attack on her to return any look he gave her. Silently she cursed Ean Stenner once again for using her father’s coat as leverage against her…when push came to shove, though, she’d had to make the choice to get herself away and do without getting the coat back. Instead she had the serape draped around her comfortably. It kept the blaster at her back out of sight as well as the two flashbangs and her combat knife, which all hung on her belt. Not that she was exactly thinking of using them at the moment.

That wouldn’t come until later…

As Sev looked back at her once more, she managed to pry her eyes away from the face of the noghri to look at him. The pitch black color that had consumed his irises had her frozen and she got the unmistakable feeling that black was not a color she ever wanted to see in his eyes again if she could possibly help it. The muscles of her eyebrows twitched slightly, knitting the two together for a fraction of a second before her attention was immediately drawn back to the human of the group, his barked words making her muscles twitch once again, urging her to flee the situation. Unfortunately she was a bit boxed in, considering the layout of the booth they’d been sitting in.

“You should have known when yer father showed up with that head, Corellian dog. There was no way we were gonna let you live.”

Oh Goddess, here it came…as if she didn’t remember well enough already. The thought added an ill feeling to the fear as she did her best to ignore all the imprinted images from every encounter she’d had with pirates. The room she’d been closed up in as a girl, the dealings with these pirates, the humiliation and terror that had come with the run in with pirates on Zeltros, and now….now was certainly not helping. Nervously she licked her lips a bit and took a breath to answer, but Sev (bless his heart) beat her to the punch and likely saved them all some trouble.

“A’right lads, calm down. We can settle this peaceably…”

“This don’t concern you, Republic Scum. It’s a personal matter. Leave!”

Goddess true this is gonna be bad…

She watched Sev take a drink, her eyes catching on how he held the mug, thinking the position odd. For a moment she didn’t get it…but as he looked down at her and his eye gave that barely perceptible twitch, that streak of color shooting through the blackness like lightning, she blinked at him once…then twice…then looked away. He had some sort of plan…what that ‘plan’ was, she wasn’t sure…hell it might not have been more than a “let’s kick everyone’s arse and hope things work out” kinda plan but it gave her some little bit of hope. Something just enough to get her thinking just a little more rationally, not that it was easy. She didn't have much of a choice though...if she couldn't run, she would just have to fight well enough to make sure she lived to tell the tale.

Okay, what did they have here? A human, a rodian, a noghri and a trandoshan. Human: easy. Rodian: fairly easy. Noghri: tough and had a sniffer like a blood hound. Trandoshan: super sensitive eyes and tough as nails. That’s when it hit her…that’s also when Sev’s mug hit the human square in the nose with his mug, sending him reeling back into the twitchy rodian. Without thinking she took her mug and flung the contents up into the face of the noghri to buy some time. Dropping the mug, she did the first thing to come to mind: shove the table away from the wall and jump on the edge closest to her, knocking it upward under the chin of the sputtering noghri. Sliding down the table to the floor she spun around and reached for her belt, one hand closing around one of the two flashbangs there and booted the table out a bit further to keep the noghri off kilter.

”Sev! Two-fer out!”

Ah, the good ol’ “two-for-one” or “two-fer,” Sev would get the idea a flashbang was on it’s way. How had she come about calling it the ‘two-fer’? Simple really…with the use of one little grenade, a soldier could effectively over stimulate auditory and visual senses with a blinding flash of light and a deafening bang to stun and confuse enemies. It was, essentially, a two for one deal. It was something she’d had to explain to the others when she’d started thinking about ways of warning allies about different grenade throws without also warning enemies about which type she was using. Each had also been accompanied by a hand gesture, just in case someone hadn’t caught the verbal notice…and that also was put into effect as two fingers were held before her eyes half a moment before she tossed the grenade over the table in the direction of the trandoshan who was struggling to get a good aim on Sev with his blaster while the other occupants of the pub rushed to get out.

Turning away she crouched, grey eyes shut tight, hands coming up to cover her ears just as the grenade let loose its dazzling display. Turning back, her ears still ringing from the proximity and things just a bit more dim than they had been, Sam pulled her blaster from behind her, pumping out several shots to the now painfully blinded and yowling trandoshan’s head and chest.

[Latus]

Trandoshan... Feint left, bring fist up under jaw shat... knocking off balance. Insert blade parallel to thoracic vertebrae.

He moved like a soldier plunging through the single table and chair that separated him from his enemy. Both arms were up, hands and knife level with his face as he bore down a look of black fury in his eyes. The fire that drove him was unusual in that it was untempered and reckless. Another long stride brought him before the imposing form who had gone for a vibroblade slung across the back. Shifting his weight to his left foot he fake-jabbed with his left. The Trandoshan reacted, shifting to dodge but was too slow to react to the fist that lashed out with a gossamer quickness. Impact ran up the soldier's arm, the knife acting to transfer more energy. It wasn't enough. In the brief moment of impact the Trandoshan took a single half-step back and continued to draw his vibroblade. The fang filled maw seemed to gloat as a drop of blood glinted in the poor pub lighting. Eyes went wide as the vibroblade came down, striking only air; the black eyed fighter had pulled himself back only a nanosecond before.

For that nanosecond the pair seemed to regard each other. A table was overturned, ale thrown, a blaster bolt cut the air. The trandoshan reached up and rubbed his chin, cocking the scaled head one way then the other. The soldier looked down, the third knuckle cut and bleeding.

”Sev! Two-fer out!”

It registered but the instant that Sev hesitated was more than he had to lose. The trandoshan saw his opportunity and lunged. The soldier only managed a single step back as the black faded to a very deep gray in his eyes and the wind from the swing kissed his cheek, the only weapon that could parry ignorantly unreadied. A skillful second step and the lizard brought the blade in for a second swing but Sev slid the knife up and deflected the blow high bending backward to avoid the humming blade. For only an instant he saw the small canister and that was all he needed.

Disengaging from the obviously skilled melee combatant Sev took a step and leaped around the upturned table bringing his hands up beside closed eyes, the combat knife glinting viciously. The flash and shriek that followed was painful even though his hands and ears were closed and covered respectively. For the first time in what seemed like ages Sev drew a long breath. The reprieve was welcome. He would have to ask her where she was carrying such firepower.

Don't lose your head. These aren't just drunks or recruits...

Opening his eyes he was forced to blink as the dazzling light show played itself out. Even the ringing in his ears left him momentarily off balance. His sight cleared at the same moment that Sam pulled the blaster from her waist and, looking over their cover, took several shots; he could feel the recoil through the wooden table. Quickly surveying the situation he saw another upturned table off to his left and bet that the Rodian had taken shelter. Quickly he glanced over the table and saw the Trandoshan, still staggering but hardly down for the count. Several blaster scores marked its body. But where was the Noghri? Checking his knife he tapped Sam on the shoulder once and waited for her to look at him before speaking.

“Eyes on a swivel, Noghri vanished. I'll take 'im... watch yer back.

He was forced to play out the words with his hands as well because, even though he heard the words in his head the explosion made it impossible to hear everything correctly. Nostalgia had taken hold as he looked at her. The emotions that were playing themselves across her face were very familiar to him. The look of grim determination, ready to do what had to be done. They weren't anticipating the slaughter to come, not enjoying it but almost seeing it before it even happened. Undoubtedly the Sergeant side of Sev was showing itself as well and, even though his eyes had faded back to their original gray he still seethed with anger. Formulating a strategy in his mind he glanced back to where the rodian was hiding, to Sam, nodded and tumbled out from cover.

Instantly he was on his feet Reaching with his free hand he scooped the closest chair, heavy steel with wood and padding, and hurled it at the Rodian's hiding place. With a crash and splintering of wood the table toppled over, a squeal of surprise accompanied it and Sev smiled. With one less blaster against him even temporarily, they had a better chance of getting out of this. Turning he spun his knife to reverse, the blade along his arm, and stalked a path skirting the arms reach of the newly observant trandoshan. His breath evened and Sev slowly reached out to grasp a half full glass that had somehow evaded the carnage of the last few minutes.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

The not-so-subtle thump of Sev landing beside her to take some form of cover from the stun grenade tugged the shadow of a smirk onto Sam’s face despite the situation. For a split second they weren’t in the pub facing a handful of pirates, but in back on Corellia in the middle of some broken down building on the edges of the blue district of Coronet with a handful of terrorists. Well…pirates, terrorists, same difference really. The moment passed as she blinked off the residual light that plagued her eyes even after having them closed and the pub came back into focus.

Hells she wished she could go back to the terrorists…

…well wasn’t that a sad statement?

Wasting little to no time, she had taken advantage of the moment to glance over the top of their shelter before firing at the largest, and likely most deadly, of their enemies. Not that blaster rounds were overly effective on the trandoshan’s tough skin, but anything was better than nothing against one of those beasts. The blinded trando staggered backward at the shots, still hovering one arm over his eyes to try and shield them from further damage, even as she ducked back behind the table. Not half a moment later, as she was checking around her side of the table, a tap against her shoulder had her craning her head around to look over her shoulder at Sev.

“Eyes on a swivel, Noghri vanished. I’ll take ‘im…watch yer back.”

Grey eyes watched his lips as he spoke, ignoring the rest of his physical speech for the most part. The half deaf feeling the stun grenade had left her with was irritating but it hardly affected her. She had Brathos to thank for that. The simple act of reading what people were saying made everything so much easier in these situations. As he finished they looked at each other for a moment, studying each other as the nostalgia took hold of them both. Unfortunately for Sev, Sam was looking forward to this a bit more than he was. Now that the fear was gone she was looking for some revenge…as well as self preservation. Despite that, her face was a mask of seriousness and determination not to be the losing side in this. While Sev certainly held that typical determination, the stern and stoic face he’d always worn, there was something else working in his features and body language that had her own features twitching slightly in mild confusion, curiosity and, truthfully, a bit of concern.

The information had filtered through her mind in a fraction of a second and she nodded once, dropping a hand lightly on his shoulder and offering a slight smile, thankful he was here…now more than ever. As he looked back around the table to an upturned table, she shifted to look with him and nodded back at him just before he moved. Waiting as he moved through her line of fire, the rocket fuelled Corellian watched as Sev hurled that heavy chair at the table that, according to the squeal, was the hiding place for the Rodian. An instant later Sev was on the move again and she had a nice clear shot at his little green head. Poor sap never saw it coming.

Using the seat of the booth to steady her aim, she put two rounds into his head before he could even fall over. That didn’t keep the ugly snout of the noghri from appearing again, however. He’d taken cover in the next booth over and, upon hearing his ‘friend’ squeal like a stuck pig, he decided it was high time to get back into the action. Glass shattered somewhere above Sam’s head, making the stuff rain down on her. Automatically she turned her back to the nearest solid object and covered her head and neck with her arms. Looking up once it was ‘safe,’ Sam groaned and brought her blaster to bear.

Well…she’d found the noghri Sev was looking for…

"Oi! Tall, dark and ugly! Dodge this!"

Okay so it wasn't the best idea ever to unload a charge pack full of blaster bolts in the direction of a species with agility and reflexes like a cat on catnip, but it was the best one she had at the moment. Whatever Sev was going to do would need some element of surprise, so she would just have to keep his attention for a moment.

...and hope he didn't rush her or dodge the hell out of her shots.

...which was looking highly likely considering only a few of them had grazed him thus far.

[Latus]

Glass shattered, screams filled the cramped and smokey pub, the sound of blaster fire erupted and split the din, but the four remaining combatants, the young woman and the soldier who considered himself her "escort" especially, both seemed completely focused on the task at hand. The soldier had descended into something similar to a jedi's trance but it was much less powerful; bloodlust. This thrill for battle was something that he had nearly forgotten even on active duty. Ears ringing, adrenaline singing, muscles tense and sharp. This was more than just pawns killing pawns on some macroscopic chess board; this was something he had to do, someone he had to protect. It had passed from dedication, a desire to protect someone he cared about. It was insanity and for the moment he gave himself over to it. He had forgotten himself in it; this was something that had absorbed him so completely.

Obsession.

Carefully he circled the Trandoshan, the lizard's bright green eyes still trying to blink away the flash from the grenade. His heart rate had peaked as adrenaline flowed, supporting him, sharpening his eyesight and movements. The glass in his left clinked musically as he stepped over a toppled chair, his right hand still dripping blood but crossed beneath his chin. Nothing else mattered here, now. He and Sam had taken care of the other two... these were all that was left. The soldier's boots came down on a shattered glass, the crunch reminding him of something else, something more insidious, more violent. He could see the twitching of the muscles as the Trandoshan eyed him with rage and contempt; it wanted a piece of him.

Well? What're ye waiting fer ye scaly bastard?

With a roar the Trandoshan wasted no more time and charged, bare feet kicking over chairs, tables, and crunching over glasses. But it wasn't a blind charge; no, this warrior knew what he was doing. With a hint of a grin the lizard drew his blade back to strike at the soldier and, as the footsteps grew closer the same soldier brought his arm lower, preempting the strike. The blade lashed out with inhuman speed but struck the readied combat knife which parried upward. The second strike came from above and was parried again. Over and over the blades struck and parried, the soldier meeting each thrust but not blocking them, only deflecting. However, the strikes came hard and fast and the soldier soon found himself losing ground step by step. Does he think ah'm tirin'? The menacing yet blank glare of the lizard showed no sign of tiring only a distinct glint of confidence. Maybe overconfidence.

As the shocks ran up his arm the soldier's eyes bled to a dark red, the remaining ice in the glass in his grasp clinking in time with the vicious strikes. As he suspected the alien's confidence won out and the trandoshan pulled the blade back for a thrust that would, theoretically, run him through. The soldier anticipated the strike before it happened, his concept of time slowed by the sensory overload. He waited until the last moment, the blade nearly struck true, putting a wide gash in his combat fatigues and grazing his sternum. The moment his flash severed he twisted away from the strike and threw the glass of strong spirits into the eyes of the lizard.

When a shriek split the air the soldier knew at once it was effective. As the trandoshan staggered backward, one hand trying to remove the stinging pain, the soldier strode forward once, twice. Kicking his foot out he hooked it around the enemy's ankle and pulled. The already perplexed combatant was off balance enough that he completely lost his balance and fell flat on his back. The moment the back hit the floor the soldier was on it. With a single motion he dropped the glass, wrapped both hands around the hilt and plunged the blade down with enough force that the blade slid into the ridge beneath the lizard's chin, penetrating with a dull, wet, impact. It was over.

He knew, Sev knew.

For an instant Sev stood, panting and looking over his kill. He blinked once, twice. Another round of blaster fire broke the relative silence and he spun; the Noghri had found its way out again and Sam, ever pragmatic, had drawn her blaster. As the high began to fade Sev slowly was forced to pant to regain his lost energy but, blade high, he began to pick his way through the carnage of the Corellian pub toward his wingmate.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

(( www.threadbombing.com/data/media/2/scarjo_popcorn.gif ))

Screaming...

Shouting...

Running...

Glass shattering...

...Silence...

The silence was the only thing that managed to pervade her awareness. Certainly she heard everything else, but it was only so much white noise to her as each moment dragged into an eternity...

Round after round of red blaster fire streaked from the muzzle of her weapon in glaring lines of charged particles that seemed to fly in slow motion toward her target. Each move the noghri made was watched as she attempted to find something, anything, that she could take advantage of...but she was running out of time, and charge, and they both knew it. They also both knew that as soon as that charge pack ran out she was going to be in big trouble. For a moment the thought of 'why did I get stuck with the tough one?' crept through her mind as some part of her noticed the fact that the pub was now relatively empty but the dimmed sounds of Sev and the trandoshan filtered into her ears.

A painful scream broke the air making Sam cringe but she kept firing...once to the chest and once to the head of her opponent, ready to fire again. To her surprise, and later to her chagrin, the scream had caught her target's attention enough that it hadn't been swift enough to avoid the blaster round to the chest, moving just enough to catch the bolt in the shoulder instead of the heart. The second shot grazed the side of the noghri's head and it glared death at her. Grey eyes widened slightly and reflexively she took another swift three shots to the torso and head of the predatory being as he launched himself up and through the shattered glass opening between the two booths...and directly at her.

Two of her three shots had struck true against the tough and muscular back and shoulders of the noghri...not that she'd noticed as she scrambled to get out of the way of the attack. She was fast, up on her feet and moving in a matter of moments, but the noghri was faster. They were naturally built to be faster, more agile, and this pirate was living up to expectations. Mid-air he'd twisted his body just enough to launch his arms out, clawed hands getting hold of her legs as he slammed into the bottom of the booth and tripped her up enough to go crashing down with him, head hitting hard against the edge of the table she and Sev had used for cover, her right arm hitting the ground with the crunch of broken glass as shards of it sliced into her from the impact...but she'd kept an iron grip on her blaster.

It was lucky that she had.

The noghri was already dragging her across the glass riddled floor by one leg and going for the other as she tried to get to her boot knife. He didn't let her get that far, wrenching her leg down and taking the knife himself before sitting on her knees to pin her legs down. With few other options left, one hand reached out and scraped up as much glass as possible. The scraping and crunching of it in her hand came with more than a few cuts as splinters of the stuff wedged themselves into the skin of her palm only moments before she flung the handful into his face. His free hand came up to defend as the other came down to slice at her. She had already moved, however, ignoring the pain of the glass in her palm burrowing deeper in as she gripped her blaster with both hands and fired...first at the hand holding her knife, then at the head and torso of her attacker.

The combat knife clattered to the floor, a bolt seared into the other shoulder, he dodged two bolts to the head...and then the worst happened...

...nothing.

Of all the times for my charge to run out, it had to be now!

With an evil, sharp toothed, grin the beast of a male grabbed for the knife again...

[Latus]

The level of pain was growing. Soreness was creeping into his limbs and out from his sternum but the soldier didn't care. After nearly half of his life in the army his pain threshold was high; it had to be. He'd taken blaster bolts, slugs to the chest, broken limbs from impacts, thermal detonator shrapnel; muscle fatigue and a few cuts and bruises were nothing. But he felt that, if he didn't move quickly, his pain would increase to an unbearable level. Sam, his obsession, had filled his mind again, and she was in danger.

His fighting with the trandoshan had pushed him back against the opposite wall of the pub and, with the place in a state of chaos, it was taking him time to pick his way back to her. Every now and then he would catch a glance at her, shooting, moving, shooting again before a line of booths separated them. His breathing quickened and the sounds all around him became sharper, more pronounced, especially the glass that he crushed beneath his thick soles filling his mind with eerie flashes of battle.

He was on Corellia again. The Sevens were pinned down by a terrorist force in the city suburbs and running dangerously low on ammo. Their last supply drop had landed right in the middle of a group of terrorists for some force blasted reason and their evac was a long ways out. A corporal had taken a round to the gut and was bleeding out. The medic had done all he could do and the poor boy, no older than twenty was screaming; five minutes, five long blood chilling minutes. Finally Sev's rifle was completely empty. He had given his sidearm to a private who took a rocket to the chest, there was no finding that. Unthinking his knife was drawn and crouched his way to one of the hallways out.

He was forced to vault over rubble, portions of walls that had caved in, ruined furniture. As he approached it another soldier, a sergeant lobbed a grenade down the hallway. A shriek of warning and it detonated in a ball of fire. Spinning around the corner Sev saw an enemy soldier crouching over the body of his fallen comrade who had nearly been shredded. The bothan looked shaken and failed to recognize Sev as he spun the knife around so he was gripping the blade rather than the hilt. It only took a moment to read his crouched position and see where his head would move.

Oi, suzy!

The soldier's arm snapped out and the thick blade flew free, a silver blur that bore on its target perfectly. The only sound it made when it hit was a wet splat, the blade digging in several inches. The noghri didn't move from where it sat for a moment, the shock of the impact slow to register in its brain. But then it screamed. The noise was as a food processor filled with nails, scrap metal, and a thousand womprats. The thing fell backward, bringing its hands up to clutch at the blade that had embedded itself in its left eye socket. With the same determination Sev quickly closed the distance to where the noghri lay. A glint caught his eye, a boot knife... without thinking he snatched it up.

Another step and he was standing over the noghri pirate. Blood was running down its horrifically shaped face as it tried to pull the thick blade out but to no avail. Leaving no mercy where none was deserved Sev crouched down and put one hand on his blade and gave it a hard shove. The noghri howled again and rolled with the blade leaving the back of his neck exposed. In a flash Sev had plunged the knife between the vertebrae of the noghri's spine; the alien went limp. Quickly he withdrew the boot knife, flipped the creature over and gave his a hard tug.

The blade came free.

For a long moment he stood there, eying the body of the noghri. There was no movement. Slowly he came back to himself. Color drained back into his eyes and his breathing returned to normal. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he wiped the sweat from his brown with the back of his hand. Haven't been that deep in a long time... Then he realized; Sam! A look of worry crossed his face and he bent down beside his wingmate. Re-holstering his knife he put his arm around her back and helped her to sit up.

Are ye all right, lass?

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

With the sight of that jagged maw grinning down at her like some sort of demon, Sam couldn’t help but see her imminent death in his beady little eyes. She’d never seen the man before in her life…she’d opted to stay as close to the ship as possible on that fateful day her father had died…but noghri were known to be able to tell a person’s bloodline from their scent alone. He’d known who she was from the moment he’d gotten a whiff of her, and pirates weren’t typically known for forgiving past transgressions. Oh yes, Samantha was about to be in a world of hurt and she knew it…she’d known since the beginning of this whole mess so many years ago…

”Daddy, I don’t like this deal…why the hells would you even make another deal with a frelling group of pirates?! Please tell me I'm not the only one who remembers last time we shipped for pirates?”

”Sammy, what have I told you about cursing, hmm? We may be smugglers, but that doesn’t mean we have to talk like we’re low lifes. Promise me you’ll stop that, okay?”

The teen gave a mild roll of her eyes and a sigh before shrugging slightly. ”Fine, dad, I promise I’ll do my best to not curse…but that didn’t answer my question. Why did you make this deal Daddy? It’s gonna end up goin’ south, just like the last one…” She wanted to tell him that she was likely the one going to be suffering for it too, but she just didn’t have the heart. At least, she didn’t have the heart…yet. Sam knew he was just trying to make ends meet. Life hadn’t been too kind to them lately and the Exodus (as well as the father/daughter duo) had been feeling the pinch. That didn’t mean that she excused him from his decision, however.

Visions of the dark, cramped, dank, and bone ridden cell she’d been kept in crept back into her mind. The sounds of drunken laughter and stomping around, the occasional sound of metal on metal and shouting as they ‘disagreed’ with each other, the sounds of shouting from the cell next door where her father was being held…it all came back to the teen in a flood of sickening memory. Grey eyes hardened as she tried to muscle down the fear…the terror…that had left her with. A terror she still felt, especially at times like these.

”You know we have to take what we can get, sweety…don’t worry, I have this one under control. It’s just going to be myself and two of their crew…nothing I can’t handle. You can stay here if that would make you feel better? Just keep the com on so I can call you to pick me up again, alright?”

She’d nodded slightly and relented, hoping against hope that her father was right this time around. Hugging him, they had stood…her father gathering the package as she keyed the ramp to lower, blaster in hand and ready to shoot the first thing that looked at her wrong. Nothing had, however, and as her father had headed down the ramp, waving to her, she got a distinct feeling of unease. No…something was very, very wrong.

…Apparently he hadn’t been correct in his assumption. Sam just hoped that Sev did something fast or she was going to end up paying the price for it after all.

She tensed as the knife raised, pausing half a heart beat the length of an eternity at the top, before starting downward. Her eyes shut tightly against the panic and her breath caught as she fought her body to get it moving. Grey eyes flew open and she twisted to the side to try and avoid a blow that would never come.

”Oi, suzy!”

For a moment the world froze at those words.

Her heart skipped a painful beat. The hand holding that blade paused. Both parties adopted looks of shocked horror. There was a sickeningly wet suction sound. Half a moment of stunned silence followed as the woman panted the shallow breaths of a terrified bird and attempted to figure out who had been hit with what. The dull clatter of her boot knife hitting the floor was followed by a horrible, and blood freezing, scream as the noghri toppled backward off of her and the world warped back into real time.

Scrambling backward, Sam ignored the pains and prickles of glass digging into her hands and forearms again as she tried to get as much room between herself and the last of their attackers, leaving a trail of bloody hand prints behind. No sooner had her back touched something solid than she whipped her head around, searching the empty chaos of the pub for any others. She didn’t even hear the noghri die. She did, however, jump and yelp automatically moving to swing on whoever had come too close to her. Unfortunately it happened to be Sev. Fortunately she realized this in enough time to stop the motion before it became more than a raising of a fist.

As he helped her sit up further she winced a bit as his arm pressed unintentionally against the glass that had gotten stuck in her skin when the noghri had dragged her along the floor of the booth. His question was met only with the sudden motion of her wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder as she tried to get hold of her wildly beating heart and rapid, frightened, breaths.

Automatically she nodded yes.

In truth she was far from alright…she was terrified, stuck full of glass, and had a rather nasty bruise coming in on her head (though this last was hidden well by her hair). Despite her best efforts to control and calm herself, Sam shook slightly as the adrenaline started to wear off and the true horror of the situation sought to take control. Finally, after a long moment, she changed her response, shaking her head and sniffling slightly before speaking and forcibly prying herself away from him. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to tell that her moving wasn’t necessarily because she wanted to move.

”N-not really….but I….I’ll - I’ll get over it.” Finally she looked down at her hands and managed a shaky sigh at the state of them. Both were cut, bleeding, and glinting with shards of the broken and crushed glass, but one far worse than the other. Carefully she began picking out splinters of the stuff from her right hand, purposefully avoiding his eyes.

[Latus]

The red haze that had formed around his vision slowly began to fade, a semblance of logic, of serenity returning to his psyche. The soldier could still feel the heartbeat in his chest as the adrenaline began to metabolize, he blinked. His thoughts were no longer within dark places of his past and the vision he had almost allowed dominance was quickly suppressed and filed away. There were so many like that he fought daily but this time the desperate bid to protect Sam had weakened his concentration. Quickly Sev took a deep breath of relief; Sam, she was all right. Seemed so at least. His expression turned to one of shock and surprise when, wrapping his arms around her to help her up, a raised fist was the response. With a smile he was about to do more than put his hands around her but in an instant she had wrapped herself around his neck in a hug that dwarfed one of fear. Sev could only smile.

Gently he hefted his wingmate up and, reaching a free hand down, he helped her onto a backless stool. He tried once to let her go, to assess the damage to her then himself, but she refused to let go and, once realizing this, Sev chuckled, hugging her even closer. A twinge of pain ran up his side but he didn't pay it any attention, this was more important. When she answered his question a little bit of him wanted to cry, to comfort her.

”N-not really….but I….I’ll - I’ll get over it.”

As he looked down at her she started to pick the shards of glass out of her hands, a painful process that gracefully would not take long. After all was said and done slivers would be the most discomforting part. Sev couldn't help but cringe at that, he hated slivers. But then their was the pain, his deep gray eyes saw the agony in her as she looked away from him.

Oi... dun dig at those, lass...

A thud broke the momentary silence and Sev spun, looking directly into the eyes of the pub owner who had a look of disbelief covering his features. Quickly Sev snapped his fingers at the man to get his attention; it took one or two tries.

Oi, ponce! Two shots o' everclear.

The bewildered man quickly turned his attention away to address the drinks and Sev slid onto a seat across from Sam. Sev cringed again, it was that damn bit of pain in his side again. Oh well nothing for it. Slowly he reached over and grasped Sam's hands with his, firmly but gently keeping her from digging anything else out. With the same force he pulled them across the table.

'Ere, t's better if'n someone else does tha'.

He didn't look at her in the eyes. There was no point to it, she was likely still in shock. All the better to begin administering triage. What was the alcohol for? Kill the infection and deaden the pain. With a clink the bartender had deposited the shot glasses on the table and hustled away. Sev was about to speak up again but turned his attention back to her hands, carefully picking out the larger shards with his thumb and forefinger. More words just seemed unnecessary at the moment.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

“Oi…dun dig at those, lass…”

Blinking to clear her vision, she sniffed and was about to say…goddess only knew what…when a thud had her jumping an inch off the stool and looking up like a frightened doe. The owner of the pub...okay, everything was okay. With a shaky sigh, she wiped the back of her (less injured hand’s) wrist across each of her eyes and blinked again. There…now she could finally see again. When Sev addressed the bar tender she looked up and frowned a bit. ”Sev…you didn’t have to be so hard on ‘im. I mean, we did sorta…wreck the bar…” With a sigh she watched him settle in across from her, how he winced, before starting to pick at the glass again. She barely noticed how he took her hands to stop her, then pulled them across the table toward him. A mild nod was given to his words as haunted grey eyes caught sight of the slice through the front of his shirt and the way it was edged with dark wetness that could only mean blood.

The shift between being concerned with the glass in her back, hands, and arm to being concerned for him happened instantly. So sudden was this change that she immediately forgot about the glass, only to be swiftly reminded about it by feeling him pull some of it out of her palm. The arrival, and subsequent disappearance, of the bar tender…presumably to fetch the owner of the place…was dismissed as she leaned forward. ”It’s just a bit of glass, Sev…I'm more worried about your injury. Little shrapnel like glass never killed anyone, but a cut like that…” She’d seen people bleed something bad from a deep enough slice across the chest and considering she didn’t know just how deep the injury went, she wasn’t wanting to take chances.

Standing with a wince of her own, she moved around the table to stand beside him, her foot hooking around the bottom of the stool and dragging it close enough to sit on. With a hissed intake of air, she sat down again and was about to take one of her hands from him when the owner of the pub arrived with the thudding steps of a very unhappy man. Twisting her head around to look at him grey eyes noted the edge of a coin on a chain glinting from within the folds of his coat. The gruff face above it was speckled with stubble, a pair of icy blue eyes glimmering from under salt and peppered black hair. “So was you two that wrecked my pub, eh? Thought Republic soldiers were s’pposed ta keep things in order, not screw things up…How you two plan on payin’ for the damages? Eh?”

Sam, not wanting more confrontation, thought swiftly. The coin, what little she’d seen of it anyway, had given her an idea…she just hoped she was right about her theory. ”I'm sorry about your pub, Sir, but you have to understand…those pirates were lookin’ for a fight. My friend here’s on leave and I just wanted to take him to a place that reminded us of good times on the home world. If it’s payment you’re lookin’ for I’d be glad to give it, but I have a matter to tend to between the tigers and the worms. If you can wait that long I give you my word I’ll reimburse you how I can.” The man listened, stone faced, through most of it, but when she mentioned those fateful words about tigers and worms he blinked several times…that stone breaking just a bit.

“Ah…I see.” He paused a moment, silently looking between the two of them. “Doko prek anuda ten?” A heavy sigh of relief escaped Sam then and she managed a smile, nodding a bit. Aye…min min volgoth noh petchuck, chumani,” she replied respectfully as she carefully reached into her clothing and pulled out the coin medallion that hung around her own neck for the man to see. He nodded slightly at that and gave a slight smile himself. “Well…that changes things a bit, doesn’t it? Wait here a tick while I lock the doors an’ get the med kit…looks as if you two could use it…then we’ll talk about things.” Silently Sam nodded to him before he went to do those things.

Turning her attention back to Sev she gave a sheepish smile and a shrug that made her wince again. ”Sev…I…thanks. I really owe you one for this.” She’d have to explain to him exactly why these men were after her, the full story of what had happened, but she’d wait until they were out of here for that if she could help it.

[Latus]

”Sev…you didn’t have to be so hard on ‘im. I mean, we did sorta…wreck the bar…”

The soldier smirked, then cringed, then smiled through it chuckling. MAybe he had been a little short with the kid...they certainly did wreck the bar. Then again, they didn't. The pirates took it to the next level, he merely threw a punch. Bloody gaets. Sev's eyes were locked on Sam's hands as he deftly pulled out the bigger pieces of glass from her flesh. They were all scratched up and he only wanted to concentrate on that because concentrating on anything else... well the cold feeling blooming out from his side certainly meant something negative.

He glanced up as the bartender came and went, depositing the pair of shots on the table. Releasing her hand he slid the second of the two to her, picking up the one closest to him.

”It’s just a bit of glass, Sev…I'm more worried about your injury. Little shrapnel like glass never killed anyone, but a cut like that…”

Ah dinnae worry boot it, lass. *grunt* Ah've 'ad cuts wors'n this; back in basic. Now drink up.He smirked before knocking back the shot, the taste burning pleasantly as it went down. Ah everclear, pure 200 proof alcohol. Poor soldier's kolto.For the pain, lass.

And he indeed needed it. With the lack of adrenaline for the last few minutes the pain hand begun to well and multiply. Sev's eyes burned with it as he used years of military training and breathing techniques just to diminish the mounting agony. Slowly he let his off hand slide off the table to his side where he applied gentle pressure. The pain diminished somewhat but it still throbbed and ached. The sound of heavy footsteps crunching over the broken tables and glass only drew a glance from him as the bartender returned with a heavy-set man. Shite... owner.

“So was you two that wrecked my pub, eh? Thought Republic soldiers were s’pposed ta keep things in order, not screw things up…How you two plan on payin’ for the damages? Eh?”

Sev had only managed to lift his head to give the man a pained glare before Sam jumped in. She said everything he would have and more, the addition of a strange descriptor at the end did however cause him to raise an eyebrow. "Tigers and worms?" He had barely managed a glance her way before he noticed the owner's stance change, the face taking on another emotion as Sam showed him her necklace.

“Ah…I see. Doko prek anuda ten?”

"Aye…min min volgoth noh petchuck, chumani,”

Old Corellian. Sev barely caught a few words as his injury twinged again sending needles up his side eliciting a nearly inaudible gasp. He had heard his wingmate use it on occasion when talking to Six-Five, the last member of Sixth Flight; Brathos Lorrd. He knew simple things like "cheers," that "doko" meant "can," and "friend," "chumani." He coughed once and smiled to himself, looking back down at the floor. Things seem to be looking up. A medkit would be nice. In an instant the man was gone again the Sev and Sam were once again alone.

"Sev…I…thanks. I really owe you one for this.”

Bollocks. Ye don' owe me nothin'. Ah was watchin' yer tail, I was. Jus' like the old days.

He turned to look at her again, their eyes meeting as the strong liquor finally took effect, deadening the nerve endings in a pain soaked buzz. He wobbled a bit in his chair as he tried to get himself into a better position to face her.

An besides. Th' Bha'lirs'd 'ave meh 'ead if'n ah let someth'n 'appen tae yeh.

He smiled again and closed his eyes, hoping that the heavy arse would hurry up with the medkit. He wasn't feeling very good.