#beroya-vhett

[Books Meme from @beroya-vhett.]

📚 (oh no time to find out Boba's a bookworm) ------------

"I hope you're not here to kill somebody." Thera kept her voice low, a glance cast up to that impervious faceplate. Her hands, meanwhile, were busy with the stall-holder's goods, leafing through the holobooks on the table and ignoring the sudden freeze that took over the stall at the sight of familiar Beskar.

She could also add a flippant, we have to stop meeting like this, even if she had noticed Slave I in one of the docking bays when she flew in. Working in the same circles and sometimes for the same Hutt it was inevitable that they'd cross paths, but it occasionally felt like the Galaxy (or the Force, if you put stock in such things) was having a quiet joke.

She was also giving him the benefit of the doubt that he might go anywhere for reasons other than a job - even the most feared hunter in the Galaxy needed down-time now and again. Even if she hadn't figured he'd be looking for that at a market bookstore.

On the other hand, he probably hadn't expected to find her there, either.

With a loud THUD! They are sealed inside a tomb of their own design. Two predators, kept in a cage. But just who were they protecting? Who were they being kept away from?

Such stupid questions didn't matter at that moment. Din swallowed hard, feeling his Adam's apple bob against his cape clasp. His eyes traced the long hallway ahead of them, cloaked in mostly darkness. Maybe that electricity frying trick worked a little too well...

"I'm fine," The Mandalorian responded evenly. His armor was newer, made of near 100% beskar. Those shots had reflected off him, leaving him unharmed. But Fett clearly was not fine.

"I have a bacta patch in my belt. Give me a moment." No asking if the elder wanted it, no offering. Just a firm command.

They were of the same faith, weren't they? Two bounty hunters in Mandalorian garb had to look out for one another.

[Sunday Question Meme from @beroya-vhett.]

13. Are they openly flirtatious/sexual, or are they quite private? ------------

That depends on the circumstances. Generally, in public and/or among people she doesn't know well, her default setting is not. Even in appropriate situations (ie social rather than business) Thera doesn't want to behave in ways that would lead someone on or make them think she's open to things she's really not.

Once she's comfortable with someone this changes, from a little to a lot depending on their relationship. Her usual 'thing' is 'friends to lovers', but she still doesn't openly flirt with a friend unless she would be OK with him taking her seriously. Mostly it'll be just kidding around, and if that's where it stays she's fine with it - but she's also the living embodiment of 'ha ha, just kidding ... unless ...?' But she doesn't do the 'kidding' unless she's truly open to 'unless'.

osella was caught red handed. she didn't really know why she woke up in another part of the galaxy, but she tried to take advantage of it to get as far away from her home planet as she could. so she had stowed away on a nearby ship, not possibly having a way of figuring out the other person on board was a bounty hunter until it was a bit too late.

she looked up at the bounty hunter, trying to figure out what to say that wouldn't potentially get her killed. she tried not to cower too much either, trying to seem as regal as she could even with her slightly torn and mudstained gown, and her hair falling out of her up-do.

The look on Ben’s face was priceless.

He watched the Rodian disappear, his fists, jaw, entire body clenched, and said,  "How can you storm around with that thing?" tipping his gaze toward the disruptor with his mother's disdain  

“Barbaric,” he muttered into a mote of ash.

His other remark—not very nice—died in a streak of plasma. Ben folded sideways again, shoulder smashing against a cargo crate. The pirates who’d just been sliced and dusted were no longer in a position to comment. Unfortunately, their friends were. The corridor shook with approaching boots.

Ben risked a glance around the crate and immediately wished he hadn't. The passage beyond had become a forest of blaster muzzles, a bottleneck rippling backward through the charging crowd.

Then, a familiar current flooded the back of his skull. The same one that occasionally made dice land where he wanted them, doors open unexpectedly, and credits disappear. Via donation, of course. 

There was not going to be another DXR-6 shot. Out of the goodness of his heart, he tore a rifle off a corpse and aimed for a cargo hook, which suddenly swung free from overhead. It dropped the approaching grunt and several unmarked containers, large enough to crush several men. 

It bought him enough time to shout.

“They’re looking for you!” Blaster fire rattled a fallen container,  peppering Ben’s coat with fragments as he flung back to grab the blade—and scowl at the stupid blood skull. “Kriff! Now, I’m on their radar. Thanks a lot, Scrapheap.” 

The thunder of boots resumed, and Ben started pushing through the debris. 

“You got me into this; now get me out before you turn us all into ash.”

Whatever woo-woo intervention had just occurred seemed unwilling to solve all of Ben Solo's problems for him. And this buckethead fuck.

Love Type Quiz

@beroya-vhett ♥'d for a starter

Obi-Wan, Ben, as he went after the fall of the Republic was walking the slightly crowded markets of Tatooine. Anchorhead was bustling and would much rather prefer to stay away from the bustling hub, but supplies were low and one must do what they must.

The former Jedi Master often stuck to himself, preferring to interact with a few trusted vendors and then be on his way.

Today started out as a normal day, yet the closer his speeder got to the marketplace the anxieties in the pit of his stomach grew stronger. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure if it was a warning from the Force or if it was just his general anxieties about straying too far from Luke and the Lars homestead.

Even still, the man did not allow his anxieties to get in the way of his task. His hands toyed with the edges of his sleeves as he perused the newer vendors that tended to pop up. That was the most dangerous part of Anchorhead; there was obviously the regular vendors, but it was such a hub of activity in the Outer Rim that it was not uncommon to have temporary pop-up stalls. And while the newer items were nice, it was the biggest cause for Obi-Wan anxieties. Despite being in the Outer Rim, and the general disdain for the Empire, everyone had their price. Especially in a place as downtrodden as Tatooine.

A glimpse of metal out of the corner of his eye and a gentle push from the Force had his attention to a familiar form: Mandalorian armor. The ginger desperately hoped the bounty hunter was looking somewhere else. A whisper in the back of his head told him that wasn't the case judging by the minute way the other's spine straightened.

Mind racing, and most notably not trying to panic, Obi-Wan most certainly, and definitely didn't run away. He carefully walked very briskly away hoping he could pull it off as a mistake, pretending he had no reason to be worried about the figure.

It didn't matter what language, Thera knew swears when she heard them. Or at least, the tone of muttering that usually contained it.

Even without that, the moment her first cautious appraisal had told her Fett was somewhere in the greasy depths of the engine and might be unaware of her approach she settled herself at the top of Slave I's ramp. Not actually in the ship but near enough that he'd be aware of her as soon as he finished the job. They might have been on reasonable terms lately, but inviting herself completely aboard without notice was a good way to get shot.

She propped herself at the top of the ramp, absently sipping water and polishing her own blaster until the clunk of the component, the pause, and then the shuffling of Mister Mysterious making himself enigmatic again. One day he was going to let her have a peek at what he actually looked like under there (aside from the obvious genetic template), but it was not yet that day.

"Well, that's a shit." Her thumbnail flicked at something that might have been a mark on the blaster's hilt. "Times like this I'm glad I fly a YT variant ... basic components are easier to get." 'Easier' being relative and 'variant' faint praise - the Nocturne had as many custom mods as genuine parts - but the modular design sometimes helped. The trouble around Kuat bothered her for personal reasons as well as business ones, though she was sure the people she knew there had gotten away.