A loud Mandalorian in a suit
of vibrant orange armor was not difficult to find. In
the day since her beating at the hand of Tycho
Starlight, she had much of the time at the bottom of a
bottle of Corellian ale. She wanted off this planet and
to get on with her career as a bounty hunter, but as she
had invoked the ire of the Imperial authorities her
travel clearance had been restricted. She was in the
spaceport, next to her starfighter, which would not be
allowed to leave the system unless she wanted to evade
the Imperial starfighter patrols. She was sitting on a
crate next to the ship, in most of her armor, save her
helmet, which sitting beside her. She had a lit cigarra
in one gloves hand, a half consumed bottle of Corellian
ale in the other. She still was in discomfort the
beating ... her ribs were bruised, her back ached, and her
lip was cut and swollen from the smack. The cold chill
from the bottle soothed her wound each time she brought
it to her mouth, and the overall alcohol consumption was
gradually improving the way she felt.
Tycho hadn't been able to
shake the way he'd felt yesterday, beating up the girl.
He had hoped she would learn a lesson, but she either
hadn't or simply hadn't been willing to say. She didn't
seem terribly stupid to him, so he'd begun to wonder if
he couldn't make use of her after all. She was going to
get herself killed out there, one way or another. Thus,
he'd been searching for her most of the day, only to
find that her starfighter was on lockdown in port. He'd
hit a number of cantinas that had seen her, but
ultimately decided the spaceport might be his best
option at this point. So it was that Tycho came
strolling up to her, dressed in his battle armor, save
the helmet under one arm. "Evening," he said casually.
He walked around her and leaned against her starfighter.
"How are we feeling?"
When El-Nay heard the sound
of footsteps approaching the last person she thought it
would be was Tycho Starlight ... the fiend from the other
day. The anger she felt towards him welled up inside of
her and she responded the only way she knew how ... by
thrown the half drunken bottle of Corellian ale at him.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming here," she snarled
angrily, attempting to hurriedly get up from the crate,
but instead she fell to the ground from her intoxicated
state. She let out a loud groan as she hit the ground,
and was now laid out defenseless in front of him. "Come
here to finish the job?" She asked, looking up at him
with her steely gray eyes, half filled with dread, half
filled with rage.
It was a little surprising
how deftly the big man snatched the bottle out of the
air. His glove and gauntlet were covered in booze, and
there was a spill on the ground between them, but there
was still enough left. He took a big swig of the stuff,
then smacked his lips. "Mm ... thanks," he said. "Y'know ...
you throw drinks at people a lot. You didn't learn
*anything* last night, did you?" He tsked and shook his
head. After another pull from the bottle, Tycho sighed
and held it back out toward her. "Get this through your
thick skull: If I wanted you dead, you'd already be
She lay there for a moment
as she attempted to judge whether or not this was some
sort of psychological torture that would proceed the
actual deed. Finally, she rose up from the ground and
snatched the bottle back from him. She took an anxious
swig from the bottom before bothering to say a word to
him. "How much did that bitch pay you for what you did
to me?" She asked, turning her side to him, as she moved
back towards where she had discarded her helmet. She
took a final drag from her cigarra before tossing it
aside, and then reached down to grab hold of her helmet.
She slid it back on her head ... feeling somewhat more
confident and secure when no one would see her young
The slightest of smiles
touched his lips as he watched her don her helmet. "You
need to learn how to hide your emotions and
vulnerability without using a helmet," he said,
completely skipping over her question. "Shouldn't bother
with it anyway." Obviously she didn't know, and wouldn't
know, that he could sense her emotions. The comment was
almost more to himself than to her. With a sigh, he held
out a hand expectantly, looking at the bottle. "You're
not weak, you know? Not strong enough, but not weak. You
have no idea what you're doing, either. Someone tries to
tell you to learn something, or teach you a life lesson,
and instead of listening, you curl up in a ball and feel
sorry for yourself. I can see it. That's who you are.
You need to stop being that." He paused, looking away
for a moment. He was quiet for a time.
"This helmet used to mean
something in the galaxy," El-Nay told him, a sound of
profound sadness and loss dripping from her voice.
"There was a time when the very sight of this armor
would command respect. Our enemies would cower before
us..." she continued, beginning the start of a drunken
rant before stopping herself. "Look. I have a father,
and he didn't do me much good," she said bitterly,
biting at her lower lip to maintain her composure as she
delved into these emotional topics. "What ... what do you
want?" She asked, finally, exhausted from the past
couple of days, and in no mood for small talk with
someone who only a day prior had beaten her to within an
inch of her life.
How overdramatic. He had
barely beaten her up at all. Tycho drank down the last
of the booze and tossed the bottle. "It did used to mean
something," he agreed. "It meant something because of
the people who wore it, not because of the armor itself.
You're not worthy of it. You could be, though. You could
be one of the few to make that armor mean something
again. Look, your father might not have been useful to
you ... I'm sure you have some kind of awful abusive
history or something ... but he either didn't teach you,
or you didn't learn. Same damn problem. Suck it up. Help
me with a job. In return, I might teach you some things.
Maybe pay a little."
When he said she was not
'worthy' he cut her to the core, and she sunk into
herself, her chin lowering until it rested upon her
chest. It was about the one thing he could say that
could truly defeat her. She was motionless for a moment,
before spinning on her heels to face him, angrily. She
raised her gauntlet to her chest, and began to pound the
two armor pieces together, as if she were beating a
drum. "Ni verd! Ni verd! Ni verd!" She chanted in her
native, Mando'a, uttering the phrase "I am warrior!"
Repeatedly to the man. With that she began to charge at
the man, unarmed, in a desperate attempt to tackle him
to the ground. Even on her best day she was not adept,
the ale had weakened her reflexes even further, and the
man possessed an ability she could not possibly imagine.
Tycho rolled his eyes as she
started beating her chestplate and chanting like an
idiot. He considered really hurting her when she
attacked, but that wasn't why he'd come here. Instead,
he took a step to the side, caught her by the wrist and
twisted. Then, he swept out her legs and finish the
maneuver, flipping her jarringly onto her back. Tycho
took a few quick steps away. "If you really want to
fight me, we'll fight," he said. "You've seen what I can
do, so stop being stupid! Ni verd all you want, but at
the end of the day, you're *not* a warrior!"
El-Nay let out a shocked
squeal as she was suddenly flipped onto her back,
reinjuring it in the process. She lay there for a
moment, coming to the sad realization that everything he
said was right, and she was stripped bare to the bone.
The tears began to flow again, but this time it was not
out of fear, but of utter surrender into the
worthlessness of her existence. "How much?" She finally
asked, after laying there for a moment, her helmet
filling with so many salty tears that it threatened to
either drown her or preserve her flesh. At this point
she had nothing to lose.
Tycho stood idly by while
she groaned in pain, then went quiet. He could feel her
like an open, bleeding wound. The pain, the anguish, the
hopelessness, it felt like a flood of all the horrible
things he'd ever felt. He felt his eyes sting and turned
away for a moment. After clearing his throat, he turned
and walked back to her, then knelt beside her. He
reached out slowly and removed her helmet, setting it
aside. There was something shocking in his gaze when he
looked down at her ... a kind of tenderness. "Best thing
you've said since I met you," he said, then smiled. "Two
thousand credits, non-negotiable, but I can give you so
much more than just creds."
El-Nay did not like having
her helmet removed, and she quickly brought her gloved
hands up to her face to wipe away the tears. She was
embarrassed. The helmet did little to protect her from
blaster fire ... it's real purpose was to protect her from
having to look another human being in the eyes. It
unnerved her somehow, and she was quick to turn her head
so that she would not have to look at him. "Are you ...
are you flirting with me?" She asked, wondering if the
'much more' was something between his legs. She had not
had particularly good relationships, and the closest she
had come was with a woman. She was a very mixed up young
woman. "I'll take the 2,000," she said, quietly and
deliberately, before pressing both of her hands down on
the floor to give herself a boost back onto her feet.
Tycho laughed at her,
walking away a few steps to place the helmet on the
nearby crate. "Flirting with you?" He echoed, then shook
his head. "You're a pretty girl, but I don't flirt with
people that hate my guts, usually. No... I'm talking about
training you. You were born to the Mandalorian name ...
you'll never live up to it at this rate, though." He
turned back to her and frowned faintly. "You have the
genetics of a race bred for war, and the potential to
make something of it. So ... you can get those two
thousand credits and run off to cry your eyes out in a
bottle, or you can get paid, then come with me. You
won't get big shares at first, but you'll learn."
"What do you know of the
Mando'a?" El-Nay asked him, folding her arms in front of
her chest, as she examined him quixotically. "You have
shown you can beat me," she admitted to him, nodding her
head firmly in sad admittance of that fact. "But that is
no great accomplishment," she reluctantly admitted,
laughing at her own limited abilities. "So what's the
job? I didn't exactly get that far, but you know that ...
you were there," she said, shaking her head at her own
misdoings. "...and do you have a plan?" She added,
having already done the mental gymnastics that resulted
in her joining his mission.
"I know enough," he said.
Enough meant that he didn't know a whole lot, or he
wasn't telling. He left that up to her to guess on.
"Forget that, though ... let's talk about the mission
right now." He motioned her over and patted the crate
beside him. "Sit," he invited. He didn't wait for her,
knowing that she would probably disobey anyway. "We're
going to be taking a shipment of items to Esseles. We'll
need to get past the Imperial blockade, so we'll be
procuring an Imperial shuttle. We've got the codes and
the cargo won't be a problem. I've thought of a way to
make it really easy, though. You any good with
Surprisingly, El-Nay moved
towards the crate and took a seat next to him ... not
because he told her to, but because she wanted to. Her
hand reached into one of the pouches on her belt and she
produced a cigarra, but just as she prepared to light it
she heard the man say 'Esseles' and stopped short. "Esseles!"
She repeated in disbelief, the unlit cigarra falling
from her lips, unable to accept that he was serious. "Do
you know how many ships the Empire has at Esseles right
now? Just trying to get off that planet caused me to
lose my travel documents," she asked, shaking her head,
before bending down to pick up the cigarra. "How much
are *you* getting?" She asked, bringing the cigarra back
to her lips, and bringing the lighter up to ignite it.
She took in a sharp inhale followed by a quick exhale,
shaking her head behind a cloud of smoke. "Computers?
No. I don't know shit about computers..." she said, being
honest, as she hoped he had a better plan than relying
on her computer knowledge.
"The only money you need to
be concerned about is what you're getting paid," he
said. "You don't ask the client how much they make. I'm
your client. Now ... you not having any more computer
knowledge than I do will make things a little more
difficult. That means going into the restricted area of
the spaceport. You'll have to look natural, so lose the
armor. You'll go in, plug in a data spike, let it
upload, then leave. I'll see to a distraction if we need
one. After that, we meet somewhere, lay low, and when
it's all said and done we'll be leaving aboard an
Imperial shuttle without a care in the world. We should
be able to coast right through the blockade once we've
got that taken care of. If everything goes to shit ...
well, I'll do what I can to get you out alive." What he
could do was as much as possible without risking himself
and the mission. Then again, he couldn't exactly trust
her not to talk, so it might come down to saving her or
killing her, rather than letting her get captured.
"Are you setting me up?"
El-Nay asked, revealing the first thought that came into
her mind, without filtering it. "Why not just steal the
shuttle, kill everyone, load the stuff on ourselves and
fly thru?" She asked him, not having much in the way of
sense for planning. "You should know I'm not the
galaxy's best actress..." she revealed with a soft
snicker, before getting off the crate and moving towards
her starfighter. "I don't have much in the way of
wardrobe either," she said, as she opened up the cargo
compartment and began fumbling through the old Corellian
clothes she had brought as an afterthought. "I guess if
I want to buy new clothes it's going to have to come out
of my end?" She asked, as she carefully held up each
item, examining it and wondering silently if it still
fit. Had she gained weight since leaving home? She
wondered silently to herself ... after all she was still a
young woman beneath the armor.
Tycho chuckled. "I don't
recommend wearing anything that comes out of anyone's
'end'," he joked. "It'll be from your cut, yes... unless
things go very well, in which case you'll get paid in
full and the clothes will be like a bonus. That won't do
you any good at all if you can't even conjure a little
guile, of course. Listen..." He paused and turned toward
her bodily, shifting his position on the crate. "You
don't trust me... I wouldn't either. But use your head. If
I screw you over and you get captured, you can tell them
exactly what I'm doing. Right now, I either help you or
kill you, not screw you. You'll have an open comm
channel going, so if you're in trouble, I'll know it. If
we can do this without anyone knowing we've stolen a
shuttle, we'll be able to waltz through the rest of the
mission. If we ran in and stole a shuttle, we'd have to
find a way to get the cargo on. We're not going to just
carry it with us into a firefight. We're not going to
take the shuttle, go somewhere else, then load the
cargo. You don't kick down doors when you can unlock
As she listened to him
speak, one by one the plates of the beskar'gam was
stripped from the skin tight environmental suit that
covered her petite young frame. She carefully tucked it
away inside of the cargo container of her ship, not
wanting to be the one to lose or damage it after how her
mother had worn it in battle more than two decades ago.
"You gonna turn around?" She said sheepishly, moving
behind a crate as she began to unzip the suit to expose
her naked body below. There were bruises ... and not just
the ones that Tycho had inflicted upon her ... some were
fresh ... some were old. She was ashamed of her body, not
proud of her scars, and she hurriedly changed into the
old Corellian clothes she had not worn in quite some
time. "How do I look?" She asked, as she came from
around the crates, wearing a soft blue tunic that was
badly wrinkled, a pair of distinct Corellian trousers,
and a matching pair of brown leather boots and jacket.
This was who she really was ... this was how she had been
raised back on Corellia.
Tycho said nothing about her
first question, being that she stepped behind a crate
and wasn't visible anyway. It was a good thing, given it
was a semi-public area. No way was he not gonna watch if
other people did. As it was, her body was safe from
prying eyes. He canted his head to the side and looked
her over once she was changed. "Better," he said. "You
actually look more confident dressed that way. You sure
this is the line of work you want to get into? You could
do a lot of other things, kid. Safer things. Not every
Mandalorian has to end up in a suit of armor, blasting
things." He watched her for a few moments longer then
rose, picking up his helmet as he did. "Tell you what ...
let's either get more booze or get you sobered up. One
or the other ... your call. I can't have you going in
there drunk. I'd rather wait for tomorrow than do that."
"Kid?!" El-Nay angrily
repeated, as she looked at the man angrily once again.
He just knew how to push all of her buttons. "Listen.
This is going to go a lot smoother if you stop treating
me like I'm some child, and that starts with you not
calling me things like 'kid'. Got it?" She said, as she
moved closer towards him. "My name is El-Nay, clan Darr.
El-Nay," she repeated for emphasis, as she circled him
slowly to get a better look at him. "I have a father.
I'm not looking for another. I'm an adult," she said,
naively, as she began to move towards the exist of the
docking bay. "Well do you want to get drunk sitting
around the ship, or are we going to a cantina?" She
asked, smiling at him, as a more pleasant rosiness moved
towards her cheeks. "Wait ... you're buying right? Don't
get cheap on me," She asked, seriously, wondering just
how much she was getting short changed on this deal.
"First of all, I'm not
calling you a kid cuz you're a child," he began, "and
I'm not going to treat you like one if you don't act
like one. Part of that is knowing when to take offense
and not to. I'm calling you kid because you're green.
Take that as an insult at your own peril. Knowing that
you're green and admitting it is the only way you're
gonna start learning." Tycho gave a nod, then walked off
past her. "I'll buy your first drink. After that, we'll
see how it goes. First, we're stopping by my ship." He
didn't look back as he spoke, just leading the way from
the docking area and down the hall. There were dozens of
docking bays at this port alone, and most bays held
multiple ships. His was only one bay down, and they were
soon looking at a trio of ships with room left to spare.
His was the smallest of the three, but it was a ship
made for combat. It was no starfighter, but probably
wasn't big enough for more than a few people to live on
for any amount of time. It was a thing of beauty, a
bluish steel hull with silver markings here and there,
all sleek and shiny. Emblazoned on the side in a crimson
font that looked like blood spattering was the name
The ship seemed newer than
El-Nay's Clone Wars relic, and she was certainly more
interested in it than she was him. She moved past him
quickly, and began to carefully examine the ship ... she
pawed over it, examining every aspect of it intently.
"Where'd you get this?" She asked, genuinely interested
rather than just patronizing him with the question.
Suddenly she realized how much she had let her guard
down, and wondered if she revealed too much, delving
back into her youthful experiences among the starports
of Corellia. When she realized what she was doing, she
brought a hand up to run through the dyed locks of her
blonde hair, closing her eyes and trying to remember who
she was supposed to be rather than who she was.
"I bought it from a guy on
Nubia," he said. "It wasn't *quite* ready to go in the
junkyard yet, but it took a lot of work to get it
looking like this." Tycho strolled up beside her and
looked at her intently. "You're a very confused young
woman, I think. I've seen a lot of different sides of
you already. I think it'll be interesting to learn which
is the real you." He didn't think it would take much
learning. She was soft and vulnerable, and not at all
like what she presented herself as. The real question
was whether she was doing what she was because she
wanted it, or because of her family. And if she *did*
want it for herself, then the question was whether she'd
be able to make the change. He tapped a few things on
the panel of his bracer. The ship's side door slid open
and a small ramp came down. He stepped up inside and led
her into a place that looked nothing like the ship on
the outside. Most surfaces were metal, but none of them
were shiny. The parts of the upholstery that were cloth
or leather were torn in some places. He began pointing
out things. "Cockpit's that way... bit of a squeeze. Over
here, this box is the living/dining/cooking area.
Refresher unit there. Quarters there and there ... they're
about the size of a matchbox. And then the engine room ...
and back past that is the little cargo boot." The tour
took all of two minutes, including showing her the
insides of each room.
"Are you a mercenary or a
counselor?" El-Nay asked condescendingly, as her eyes
ignored him, and intently studied every aspect of the
interior of the ship. There was a time when she was
young when she dreamed of being a pilot like the rest of
her friends on Corellia, but that was before she
discovered who she really was. While her father did
everything in his power to keep her from what she felt
was her birthright, her mother would regale her with
bedtime stories of her people's great victories in
battles spanning back a thousand generations. From that
moment forward she devoted herself to embracing her true
culture and became a great Mandalorian warrior like her
ancestors. It meant more to her than anything, but her
people had been neutered by the Empire, and now her
world was being stripped of its precious iron and her
people forced to either serve or travel the galaxy is
wanderers working as mercenaries ... like her. "Did you
bring me here just to show me this?" She said, finally
turning her attention back to him instead of the ship.
"Just a guy who knows what
he's talking about," he retorted, scowling a bit. "I
didn't bring you here to show you anything. I came to
change. Relax, kid." Shaking his head, he went off into
his bunk and let the door slide closed behind him. The
room consisted of a bunk built into the wall, a sink and
refresher unit that pulled out of the wall in drawers,
and a tiny closet. He stripped down, piece by piece,
until the armor was gone, which took some time, as it
had her. Then, he unzipped his body glove and stripped
it off to finish changing. When he emerged, he was
dressed in a sleeveless red vest with a long black shirt
under it. His pants were a nice neutral tone and he wore
black boots. He'd even taken the time to run a brush
through his hair and wash his face. His figure was still
intimidating, but much less so. Even with the scarring
on his face, he looked halfway handsome.
When El-Nay caught a glimpse
of him for the first time out of her armor a flush of
color rushed to her cheeks and a smile instinctively
crept upon her lips. She hated that had happened, and
she quickly moved to turn her back to him so that he
could not see. She cleared her throat, trying to focus,
before speaking. "Shouldn't we get going? I'm sobering
up and you said you'd buy me a drink..." she said, before
heading towards the ramp to get off the ship. There was
something about being in the tight space of the ship
with that was causing her to feel somewhat warm in a way
that she did not want. Was it safe to have a drink with
him? She wondered silently to herself, and she began to
question what she was doing. Her heart was racing, and
she began to expel the nervous energy by bouncing up and
down on her feet. "C'mon, old man!" She yelled behind
her, as she began to leave the docking bay. She would be
fine once she had a drink in her hand, she kept telling
"Sobering up, my ass," he
said. The 'old man' bit twinged a bit, but turnabout was
fair play and all that. He didn't let it bother him. He
followed her out, puzzling over what he was feeling from
her. It was an odd hybrid of emotions and something else
that he wasn't sure qualified as an emotion, exactly.
With a sigh, he shook his head and pushed the thoughts
away. He had to get a little more discipline over this
thing. Once he had turned the switch into the 'off'
position as best as he could, he joined her and headed
off for the spaceport's cantina. It was the quickest one
to get to, so there was no point in going further. It
was average in quality and large enough to accommodate a
fair number of travelers. Because of the amount of
traffic, though, it looked a little on the dingier side
than it otherwise would have. The place was smoky, loud,
and smelled of alcohol and various sentient body odors.
There was a nice fragrance in the air blending with it
in a valiant attempt to cover it up. He glanced to her
and spoke loudly over the music. "I really know how to
treat a girl, don't I? Stick with me and we'll see all
the shittiest dives in the galaxy."
"I...I thought it would be a
more glamorous life," El-Nay conceded, as she looked
over the dirty place, wondering if the glasses were even
clean. All the money he must have been making and they
end up in a dump like this. "Well. Get me a drink," she
said, as she moved towards the table that seemed to be
the cleanest of the bunch. She reached down and grabbed
the chair, tilting it slightly so that any debris on it
would slide off. Her hand slapped at it roughly, trying
to get anything off that gravity did not remove. Once
she was satisfied that it was as clean as she was going
to get it, she turned the chair around and sat down,
spreading her legs around the back of the chair, and
resting her chin upon the top of the back. Her grey eyes
scanned the other patrons wondering who they were, what
their stories were, and what exciting places they were
off to. Then she wondered if this would be her last day
left alive what with Tycho's scheme to run the blockade
of Esseles. She would need to drink. She would need to
drink a lot.
"Glamorous," he muttered to
himself, chuckling. He shook his head and walked off to
the bar. It took him nearly ten minutes, busy as the
place was, but he came back with a bottle and two
glasses. He sat, not really paying attention to whether
the chair was dirty, sticky, whatever, and poured them
each a glass. "Moonbeam," he said, nodding at the red
liquor. He picked up his glass and held it out for a
toast. "To a thoroughly unglamorous and profitable
El-Nay picked up the glass
of red liquor and connected it against his when he made
the toast, and then quickly moved it to her lips to take
a swallow. She had never tasted it before, and she
coughed slightly as it went down. "So ... who are you?"
She asked, the broadest possible of questions, before
taking a second swallow that was much more substantial
than the first, as she began to acclimate herself to the
new sensation. It occurred to her that she knew very
little about the man she had committed to working with ...
other than he threw a good punch and had an interesting
"Hmm ... what an odd question,
now I think of it," he said, after a gulp of the liquor.
"I don't think you ever asked my name. Tycho Starlight.
As far as who I am, though..." He shook his head and
sighed. "That's a long story. Bullet points: I was born
on Nal Hutta, got into the crime life, got enough money
to leave the planet, and left. I tried to avoid Hutt
space for a while, but that only lasted so long, so I
ended up working a lot of jobs in that area. I've been
doing this for over twelve years, learned a lot of shit,
including stuff from one of your people ... which is why I
know what a Mandalorian should act like, by the way.
Then, business got crappy, I at some point ended up
here, and now I'm drinking with you. Exciting, isn't
it?" Tycho smirked at her behind his glass, though there
was a twinkle in his eye. He was actually starting to
let loose and enjoy her company. And, if he wasn't
terribly mistaken, she was enjoying his too.
"Is that all it really is?"
El-Nay asked, sounding downright discouraged by what he
had described to her. Her hand reached for the bottle,
and she quickly poured herself a second glass. "I
thought there'd be more to it than this..." she revealed,
before drinking the entirety of what was in her glass in
one quick motion. She coughed loudly, before slamming
the now empty glass down in front of her. For the first
time since leaving home she was having serious thoughts
about quitting, and running back home to her parents.
"Is this your plan, Tycho?" She asked, saying his name
for the first time, as she went for yet another glass of
the moonbeam. "To depress me so much about your
lifestyle that I end up quitting?" She asked, sounding
serious, before moving towards the drink again.
Tycho smirked, then drained
the last of his glass and poured himself another. He'd
be damned if he couldn't keep up. "You're onto me," he
joked. "No life is all bad or all good, all boring or
all exciting, but when you're young ... and don't give
me a hard time for saying it, because it's true ... when
you're young, you have a vision of how things will be
that usually doesn't match up with reality. There's
satisfaction and excitement to be sure. If you're
successful and get plenty of credits, you can go to the
nice places and buy the nice things, if that's your jig.
It's like any other job when you get right down to the
nitty-gritty. Instead of waiting tables, you're
kidnapping and killing people." Somehow that statement
seemed to make sense to him. "It comes with experience,
kid. That's all I can say."
El-Nay squeezed her eyes
tightly together as she began to feel the effects of the
alcohol that she had been drinking far too rapidly. The
liqueur did not mix well with the ale she had been
drinking earlier, and she barely managed to hear one
word in three of what he was saying. "Ungh," she
groaned, swirling the red liquor in the glass in front
of her eyes, and tried desperately to focus on it.
"What?" She asked him, her voice slurring, before her
eyes began to roll back in her head. A moment later her
body fell forward, her head slamming down face first
into the dirty table. She was gone.
Tycho blinked and stared at
her for a moment. He downed the last of his drink,
stood, and picked up the bottle. "More for me, I guess,"
he said. He moved to her side of the table and hauled
her out of her chair and up onto his shoulder. With a
hand firmly planted on her rear, he carried her from the
cantina. Boy was she gonna be surprised when she woke