An Unlikely Interlude

''OOC Note: Much of the initial dialogue between Stars and Swiftfoot is in Demarese. This text appears in italics in this particular log.''

Nixkamich shrugs. "Well, if anything else, I think my siblings will be interested in meeting someone from Sivad, and a Warrior at that. So at least, try to be nice to them."

Ailith tilts her head at that. "...I am not nice?"

The hatch of the IND Jackal cycles open, and Swiftfoot stalks down the ramp, heading toward the refueling station. She offers a wave to her fellow crewmates, along with a flick of her tail, before tapping a few keys on the console.

Nixkamich hesitates for a moment. "Ummm...you can be. Though you are somewhat offstandish. I remember you looked like you wanted to stab me when we first met."

Ailith quirks an eyebrow, her expression otherwise the same stony, stoic facade it always is. "It is my way. But I do not harm children."

Nixkamich smirks. "I would think not." he muses, giving a wave to Swifty. "Nothing wrong with your way, besides most giving you a wide berth." he adds jokingly.

Swiftfoot yawns and stretches a bit, her tail flicking as she waits for the console to finish up its work. Her ears perk at the telltale beep, and she starts back toward the black-and-red Calliope from whence she came, her paws in her pockets. Looking back over her shoulder, she pauses for a moment. "Hey, eitherr of you two need anything offa teekay? I'm headed out that way this evening."

Ailith shakes her head. "I was glad to leave," she says. "And without good cause, reluctant to return. It takes pointless violence to absurd levels." She nods at Nixkamich. "We were discussing a trip to Quaquan."

Nixkamich nods. "Indeed. My younger brother's coming of manhood ceremony is a few weeks from now and he needs someone to finish his training, and he has asked me. I am surprised he asked, it has been years since I have been home." Nix explains.

"Sounds like... fun?" the orange-furred Demarian ventures, blinking, her head tilting slightly to the side. "I'm not surre how you lot handle such things, trruthfully, so I'm just kinda guessing." Swiftfoot grins and offers a shrug. "If neitherr of ya need anything, I oughta get goin. Don't wanna be late forr dinnerr, meh? S'a bad way to starrt an evening, methinks."

Ailith nods. "When will you need us?" she asks.

"It'll be interesting is a better word for it." Nix replies. "At any rate, you plan on seeing that...Stars was his name on Tomin Kora?" he asks, looking back at the Faux. "Any word on the registry yet?"

Swiftfoot snorts and shrugs. "No. I don't even know who to talk to, to be honest. That's why I'm using Jackal to go out to TK. Well, that, and I feel saferr that way forr some rreason. I'm still trrying to tell myself that Ace is coming back any day now, as well." She chuckles and flicks an ear. "And am I that trransparrent? Yeah, meeting up with him again. Should prrove interresting, if nothing else." The Demarian blinks at Ailith then, her head tilting to the side. "Honestly, chief, I don't have anything lined up forr us rright now. I thought it might do us all a bit of good just to cool off while the rremnants of this thing blew overr. I'll see what I can do in the nearr futurre, though. I don't want you two to be borred orr anything."

Ailith nods. "Good fortune," she says. "I am sure an interesting time will result."

Nixkamich chuckles. "I saw the way you two were looking at each other." Nix muses then gives a nod. "But good luck. If you need either of us, just let me know."

Silvereye strolls out of the decon corridor with his hands in his pockets. He slowly looks around the landing pad.

"Saw the way we looked at each otherr?" Swiftfoot inquires, one eyeridge quirking upward. She gives a snort and a flick of her tail. "Was just drrinks, chief. And this is just dinnerr." The orange-furred felinoid chuckles, and gives a flick of her ears. "I'll catch you two laterr, then." With that, she ascends the ramp of the Jackal, disappearing into the airlock.

Some time later...

>> Outside the Ship: "That'd be neat. Even with a bit of hazing." Tia chuckles which quickly flows into another yawn. A glance about and a wave is thrown to Iallanni.

>> Outside the Ship: Iallanni says, "Hiya, darling. How's that captain of yours doing?""

>> Outside the Ship: A Calliope freighter descends from orbit, landing off near the edge of the landing pad, away from the other ships. The only identifying marker on the ship is a crimson jackal's head painted on the matte black hull. The whine of the engines cycles down shortly after it lands.

Stars stops holding up the Revenge's support strut as the Calliope settles to the pad, absently adjusting that sparkling sash around his waist and - visibly relaxing. "Rright." He pauses for a moment... then blinks. "Fuck!" And with that classic Demarian curse, he literally turns and bolts - at a dead run - up the ramp and into the Paris behind him.

Sleepy Tia, who's sitting leaned against the Daisy's airlock nods to Ia, who's by the Revenge.. somewhere. Yeah. Anyway, she give another bit of a rub to her eyes before replying with, "Yeah, he's doin' good. How're you doin'?"

Iallanni watches the Demarian up the ramp, a silver brow arching at his retreat. Her gaze returning to Tiana with a shrug. "What was that?

The hatch on that same black-and-red Calliope cycles open, and one orange-furred pilot steps onto the ramp, carrying a bag or satchel of sorts in one paw, and happens to be just in time to catch a glimpse of the other Demarian disappearing into the Revenge. "Um... hrr," Swiftfoot muses to nobody in particular, pausing just outside the airlock door and scratching at the back of her neck uneasily. "Not quite the rreaction I was looking forr." One of her ears lies halfway back. It's apparently time to cue embarassment.

The /other/ Demarian - the one that took a rapid flight up the ramp - isn't gone long at all. When he returns, it's with... a wrap. A giant, paisley, fabric... /thing/. With fringe. That's tied across his back, over that bandolier, in a sort of loose donut that is, no matter /who's/ watching, not in the least fashionable. He is, in fact, still in the process of fumbling at tying the knot as he jogs back down the ramp, dividing his attention between /that/ and smoothing the fur around one ear.

"Said he's doin' good is all." Tia calls over to Ia, "How're yo-" She trails off, attention stolen by Swifty mostly, though Stars' paisley-fabric-thing draws a glance.

Iallanni laughs as she catches sight of the other Demarian, strutting down the rest of the ramp. "That's good, darling," she calls out to Tiana as she moves towards the martian.

Swiftfoot looks up from her musings and quirks an eyeridge at Stars' reappearance. "Jeez, I was starting to think perhaps you didn't want to see me after all," she calls to him, giving a slightly sheepish grin and a greeting flick of her tail. "I was all ready to hop back on board and fire up the turbocannons. A woman scorned and all that rot, you know." The orange-furred Demarian looks around the landing pad momentarily, offering a flick of her tail to Tiana, and a curious tilt of her head to Iallanni, before shifting her attention back to the dark-furred Demarian. "So what's the plan, chief?"

Stars pauses at the foot of the ramp - looking up to Swifty as she speaks - and, interestingly, he mirrors her expression from earlier, one ear down, more than a bit embarrassed. "Well.. I have a plan. It's not a /good/ plan, but it /is/ a plan." He glances, it seems, somewhat sheepishly, in the direction of the non-demarian-duo - "It's - very good to see you, Pretty." With that, he pads in the direction of the Jackal, flashing teeth.

Tiana stretches her arms up, back arching. It's a very kittenish stretch. Oh my. A shake of her head and she swings her legs over the side of the ramp, hopping down to stand as Ia arrives. A hand raises to give a little wave to Swifty as she looks up to the Timonae, Demarian's kept within her peripheral vision, "How are you- " Yawn " -doin?"

The orange-furred pilot blinks, shifting her weight to one foot. Swifty still stands at the top of Jackal's boarding ramp, near the airlock. "Dare I ask?" she inquires, her expression a sly sort of half-smile, and her head tilted slightly to the side. "Your place or mine? That's a good bit to start on."

"Neither." Stars offers a paw up to Swifty, grandly - "I promised to show you the best this rock had to offer, and I'm going to do just that. Shall we?"

"Ah.. hm." Tia angles her head down, hiding a bit of a frown under the guise of rubbing at her eyes, "Where were you thinking of looking about?"

"Clothing," Iallanni laughs softly. "Course with things being as they've been, a bit of tail like the Demarian's wouldn't be bad either."

Swiftfoot chuckles and quirks an eyeridge. "That mean we're gonna save the Demarian red for another evening?" she inquires, grinning. "Most places have a thing against bringing your own. Something about wanting to sell you theirs." Iallanni's comment draws a flick of the orange-furred pilot's ear, but most of her attention seems to be on Stars, as she places her paw into his.

"That would be entirely up to you - one of the few advantages on T-K is the fact that, to a great extent, things like 'culture' and 'convention' we get to make up as we go along." Stars winks at her, grandly escorting her down the ramp - and, provided she comes along, on toward the ruins. "With pulse pistols, if need be."

"Ah, sure.. I guess we could go clothes shopping." Tia says with a hint of nervousness to her voice, "Just lemme grab a cup of coffee quick first, hey? Don't wanna look too sleepy, wandering around here."

Iallanni leans against the strut of the ramp. "Take your time, darling. We may even find some company if they wake up soon."

Swiftfoot chuckles and follows after Stars, the satchel still slung over one of her shoulders. "Where are we headed, then? Or is it some kind of big secret? I do hope you don't mean to take me out into the ruins and take advantage of a poor, hapless female." She snickers at this, stifling it with her free paw. "That's in bad taste, I think. I'm not much good at this, sorry."

"Ruins, yes. Advantage, no." Stars flashes Swifty that toothy grin as he pads on - "I've been doing my fair share of frantic plotting, wheeling, and dealing - enough that I refuse to ruin what little surprise I have built up."

A short time later...

Stars leads the way quickly, through the ruins - it's obvious from how he moves, and the pace he sets - that this, this place he knows, and knows well. He leads the pair at a remarkable pace to the old forum, in and up - pausing at the bottom of the stairs ... and, the fellow actually seems more than a bit nervous, as he asks, then.. "You rrealy have no rreason to trrust me, Prretty - feel frree to say no.. but close yourr eyes?"

The female's ears flick, and her snout wrinkles in a grin. "Plotting, wheeling, and dealing, meh? Sounds like my last few days." Swiftfoot's head tilts slightly to the side, and one eyeridge quirks upward. "Somehow, I think, if you werre going to trry something... uncivilized, you would have trried it by now. But I'll warrn you, therre's not a damn thing wrrong with my hearring." She gives a blink and an expression of faux-innocence before closing her eyes. "Lead on, chief."

He does that, chuckling softly - not one hint of impropriety as he leads her carefully up into the skybox.

Hearing - and scent - in fact - give away more than a few clues. Despite the smell of mildew.. there's also a leftover touch of cleaning solution, the kiss of the chill breeze of T-K on the air. "Herre.." He leaves her standing alone, for a moment - there's no attempt at stealth, at least in his movements. "Don't step back - the stairrs arre close, and I don't want to see you fall." There's the sound of rustling cloth - a grunt, and the sound of something heavy shifting.

"I'd land on my feet anyway," Swiftfoot retorts, giving a wry chuckle. She scents the air lightly, her whiskers bristling. "Hm..." Her tail flicks absently as she stands there, her ears following his movements as the sounds come to her.

All in all - it only takes a minute or two - a small clink of metal, the scent of burning naptha, accompanied with the sound of a lighter striking. Finally - an oddly, fairly heavenly scent of something rich and meaty and very much as a dinner /should/ smell - though it's a bit thin on the breeze. "Rright. I think that's got it." There's a low chuckle from ahead and to the left - "Come on overr, prretty. It's not much - but.."

Swiftfoot opens those liquid-gold eyes of hers and blinks, taking a look around. She eyes the stairs behind her, then the plasteel windows above. "I don't think I've everr been up herre," she says, again taking a quick sniff at the breeze. The female chuckles and stalks toward Stars, satchel still in paw. "Y'know, I was always fascinated with this nebula. Funny how things end up. Back then... well, it was a curriosity. These days, I guess I don't think so much about it anymorre. It's lovely, though. Neverr thought I'd find myself saying anything like that about teekay."

The room is - well, no, it's not transformed. Modified, yes. Added to, certainly. An old table has been hastily repaired, scarred surface covered by that paisly cloth - four small tea-lights, obviously stolen from the Casino's floor, bathe it in a wan illumination. Two chairs, carefully nailed together into blocky sturdiness sit nearby, cushions repaired by the simple expedient of duct tape and patience.

There is, for TK standards, something of a feast laid out - two large steaks, still resting on the lower-half of the warming trays they were once in, still steaming slightly, form the centerpiece - relatively fresh bread and green apples, along with a small block of cheese, make up the rest of the meal. Mismatched silverware is laid carefully at each place - and two tall bar glasses represent a nod to more liquid refreshment.

Stars flashes nervous teeth, his tail twitching. "It pales in comparrison." He pauses.. and actually winces. "Flowerry worrds are not rreally my forrte."

"You and me both, chief," the orange-furred pilot replies, her snout wrinkling slightly. "Cmon, possibly my best frriend in the verrse is a Marrtian. They'rre not much on mannerrs, let me tell you. Poetrry, eitherr, now that I think about it." Swiftfoot gives a snort, then moves close enough to offer the satchel to the other Demarian. "You'll find the contents to yourr liking, I trrust. Not prre-Sanctuarry, but still a good yearr." A nervous twitch of her tail follows, and she looks away. "Didn't have to go to all this trrouble, by the way..." Yep. Cue embarassment.

Stars takes it, carefully - "I did, you know." He moves over to pull out her seat. "I harrdly had anywherre else to enterrtain, rreally." He recovers a bit of his own composure. "Whateverr happens tomorrow, I prromised you a decent meal and decent scenerry. As I, myself, am not rreally decent /scenerry/, I asked my frriend up therre to help out a bit. The meal? Well - decent is rrelative, of courrse."

Swiftfoot blinks, her ears flattening out for a moment. "Meh. You'll spoil me," she protests wryly, before brushing past him and settling herself into the chair he's so gallantly pulled out for her. "I'll starrt to think this is the way things ought to be, and wherre will the males of the species be then? I ask you this. You'rre rreally doing them a disfavorr, you know." The orange-furred felinoid gives a wink and a flick of one ear. "I am, of courrse, coverring up my nerrvousness by turrning everrything into a joke. But it's not worrking verry well, I don't think."

He fishes in that satchel, carefully removing the bottle - "One advantage to a cerrtain class of upbrringing - it rreminds you, that, on occassion, therre /is/ a rright way of doing things." Stars fishes one of those knives out of his bandolier, flicking it in his fingers. "As forr the rrest of the males - meh. It's ourr job, as a sex, to spoil the otherr half of the species wheneverr possible." He chuckles, softly. "I don't know, by the way. I think it is."

"Yourr job?" the female inquires, one eyeridge quirking upward. "Well hells, if I was to do -my- job the way the Senate's defining it these days, I'd alrready be settled down with a nice male, with a litterr of kits to my name and a second one on the way." Swiftfoot chuckles and shakes her head. "So I'll stick with being a pilot and a borrderrline crriminal forr the time being, methinks. The Senate can go muck about with someone else's life, thank you very much." Her eyes shift upward, again going to the sky. "Hm... y'know, it's a lot prrettierr when you arren't trrying to analyze it."

There's an old soldier's trick, in the absence of a corkscrew - a knife, used correctly, can lever a cork out with a bit of work. Stars, it seems, knows that particular trick - levering the bottle open as he moves to his own chair, speaking softly.. "Funny. I was thinking that myself earrlierr." Frankly, he's not got his eyes on the nebula. "Arre they still on that nonsense?" He snorts. "Stupid politicians."

Swiftfoot snorts derisively. "Yeah. Something about yourr Brrakirr-blessed duty to yourr species, blah blah blah blah blah." She rolls her eyes. A white-furred paw is waved dismissively. "Senate's mostly males. Go figurre." She shifts her gaze to Stars then, head tilting slightly to the side as she meets his eyes. One of her eyeridges quirks upward. "You keep saying things like that and you'll end up convincing me. Then I'll have something else to be arrogant about." A toothy grin follows in the ensuing pause. "You so don't want that."

He pours, carefully - a decent measure in two of those glasses - waving a black-furred paw as he sets the bottle aside. "Eat, prretty - it won't stay warrm forrever." Stars, chuckles, as he takes his own seat, "Don't I? I like yourr confidence - and, trruly, it's only arrogance if the attitude isn't justified."

"Woulda been rrude to starrt beforre the wine was even pourred," the female teases, giving a wink. But she does pick up her silverware, not even seeming to notice its mismatched condition, and goes to work cutting the steak into pieces. That done, she spears one on her fork, grinning across the table at Stars before taking it delicately between her teeth and chewing thoughtfully. A sip of wine follows, and Swifty quirks an eyeridge. "Decent may be rrelative, chief, but this... is morre than decent. Light-yearrs morre."

"Just don't ask /what/ it is. I'm rreasonably surre it's not sentient, at least - but therre's an Odarrite acquaintence who is a positive wizarrd given the rrelatively limited selection of items he has to worrk with." For his part, the big demarian selects an apple - carefully taking a bite that, well, amounts to half of the treat, core or not. "I mustn't forrget to get these trrays back to him, howeverr - he gets touchy about his cookwarre."

Swiftfoot chuckles. "I'll be cerrtain not to be too harrd on it then," she says, giving a wink. A couple more bites of steak, more quiet chewing, another sip of wine. "Hm... an Odarrite, though? I can't say that I've everr met one." She blinks and eyes Stars across the table, seemingly at a loss for further small talk for the moment. One of her ears lies back, as if in silent acknowledgement of that fact.

"Mm. Most arren't rrealy worrth meeting - they've not much by the way of perrsonality, rreally. Bugs despite theirr sentience, and most of them would - well, selling theirr own grrandmotherrs rreally doesn't apply, but.. it's the idea, at least." Stars reaches out to acquire his glass - genially filling in that empty space. "I'm currious how you ended up on that ship - it has quite the rreputation, even arround this ball of dust."

"I'll be honest with you," Swiftfoot says, flashing a smile that's a touch relieved. "I lied. I lied my tail off. I imperrsonated a memberr of the Demarrian Militia, and went with them on a salvage mission to the Line of Pain." She chuckles and shakes her head, even as she reaches for a slice of the bread. "They found me out, of courrse, and I confessed my sins, as it werre, but I was given the chance to prrove myself by moving Captain Tachyon frrom a hospital on Ungstirr by shuttle to one on Sivad. Oh, and by forrging herr paperrworrk. Mika Tachyon isn't necessarrily welcome on Sivad. Abigail Jones, howeverr, is just fine."

Stars blinks - and then laughs, softly. "That.. is a hell of a storry." He sips at that wine.. pausing, and, for a moment, his eyes closing, ears half-lowering - there's obvious relish, there... and he's oddly careful with the glass. After a moment, though, he picks up the thread again - "I should prrobably ask what your Captain was doing in a hospital on Ungstirr - but my imagination merrrily supplies 'barrfight'."

Swiftfoot chuckles and shakes her head. "Not quite," she says, one eyeridge quirking upward. "Most of the barr fights I've seen on Ungstirr werre rrelatively good-naturred. Most. I did claw a guy up once, but that's what he gets forr swinging a brroken bottle at a Demarrian." There's a pause as she takes a large bite from the slice of bread, again following it with a sip of the wine. "One of Madina's goons. Beat the living hell out of herr beforre Torr got ahold of him." Her expression darkens for a moment. "Wouldn't wish that on anyone. Torr 'gettin ahold' of em, I mean." A flick of her ears, and she shrugs. "Funny how Madina turrned up dead soon afterr. Things like that... they happen."

"And sometimes, those things happening arre not bad things in the least." Stars agrees, affably... and finishes his apple, reaching out to pull another one closer with a clawtip - "This Torrr sounds like a hell of a fellow.. but rregarrdless, I'm glad to hearr it all turrned out in the end." He takes another sip - "If you carre for morre steak.." He nudges his own, still untouched, closer to her. "Be my guest."

"Not a chance," the female retorts, flashing a grin and patting at her stomach. There's a dull, hollow sound as her fingers meet the body armor. "Got to maintain my girrlish figurre. Not that I could put on weight if I trried. And Brrakirr, have I trried." Swiftfoot finishes off her slice of bread, and eyes Stars again, her head tilting curiously to the side. "So, now you know how I got togetherr with Blackjack, but I as of yet don't know anything about you, aside frrom the fact that many things wash up on teekay."

"That larrgely stems frrom the simple fact that I'm not in the least interresting." Stars sips again at his wine. "And, frrankly, I have no possible way of spinning anything in something even close to a positive light. But - I rresolved to be at least honest." His own nervousness actually shines through for a moment, as his tailtip flicks, absently. "What would you like to know?"

Swiftfoot blinks and flicks an ear, then reaches for her own glass, staring into it as she swirls the contents around for a moment. "Dunno, guess how you got involved with the Rrevenge is a good starrt. I've neverr even hearrd of it, to be trruthful. Not that I keep up to date on everrything, necessarrily, but I do have my contacts. Comes in handy when people decide to put prrices on my head." She gives a wry smirk and finishes off the rest of her wine, which wasn't much by this point, really, then sets the empty glass down. "And honestly? I wouldnt' worry too much about what I'm gonna think, chief. Like I said, I've been a lot of things. Shameless liarr, petty thief, stowaway, prrivateerr, well-publicized (which means bad) smugglerr." She taps one finger as she lists each item, and grins. "I'm in no position to judge."

He takes a sip of wine - perhaps for fortitude, before setting the glass down, carefully. "The Rrevenge?" Stars frowns. "To tell you the trruth, I'd have ignorred it, if it wasn't for Rraleigh. I overrhearrd a deal go down between herr Captain and the fish that sold it to him - an advantage to good earrs arround herre is getting wind of a bit of luck, sometimes." He gnaws absently on that apple. "I hearrd he was looking forr... experrienced individuals, and took a shot. A ship herre, looking forr strrong arrms and a steady pistol.. well, that's not something I could pass up, rregarrdless.. not with Rraleigh arround. One way orr anotherr, it's herr ticket off this rrock."

"Mmh," the female replies, nodding. "So, another tale of an advantage gained by being shrrewd. At least you didn't have to lie." She winks and flicks both ears. "I think that's what gets me about this place. The stink of desperration clings to just about everryone herre. It's a rrarre perrson that can even brring themself to aspirre to get away frrom it once trrapped. And so they rreduce themselves to theirr basest instincts, forr the most parrt." Swiftfoot shrugs vaguely. "So... you'rre worrking forr that ship forr yourr Rraleigh. Noble aspirrations. But how did you... wash up herre in the firrst place? I guess another question is, when'd you meet up with herr? Rraleigh, I mean."

"Six months ago." Stars still seems... nervous, a claw absently toying with that half-apple. "I was drrifting from job to job - one of those baserr crreaturres you mention. Rreally, the only thing I've everr been halfway decent at is shooting at people - I had a bit of a rreputation as being easily bought, if somewhat unrreliable muscle. Rral had washed up about a month beforre - we ened up both getting pulled in forr a bodyguarrd gig on a fellow named Weatherrly - some sorrt of line boss from Sivad." He shrugs. "Things went south. Verry south - and we picked up each otherr's back, and ended up holing up forr a while togetherr." Thoughtful, he watches that apple roll. "We figurred that we made a fairrly good team - and, come to find out, it's mostly trrue."

Swiftfoot snorts and shakes her head. "You'rre not like..." she pauses to wave a paw generally in the direction of where apparently she thinks the Bazaar must lie. "Them. You -want- to get away. They kill each otherr forr brroken bits of worrthless junk. They rrevel in it." She mrrls thoughtfully to herself and nods, blinking. "Sounds like you both got lucky to have someone competent to get yourr back. That's not always the case, unforrtunately. I guess... I've always been lucky on that count, rreally. Even when things werre so farr south I thought I was norrth, I always had good people beside me." Another blink, and a slight tilt of her head. "So, I guess that makes it yourr turrn. Firre away."

Stars pauses, for a long moment, eying that apple. "I was, Prretty one. I rreally was." He looks up, carefully, then, ears flattening a bit. "I would be lying to you if I said I wasn't. I told you - I'm not brrave, and I'm not nice. Six months ago, I was wearring rrags and rremember.. if it was rreal.. crrushing an ungstirri's head in forr a handful of crreds." He looks back down to the apple, nudging it with a claw. "Until verry rrecently, I couldn't have told you what yearr it was." He tries shaking that off, with some effort, bringing those yellow eyes of his up to hers - "But, at least I clean up well." He tries a slight, toothy smile. "And yeah, I am lucky. I owe herr. A lot." He clears his throat. "Morre wine, then?" He reaches absently, for the bottle.

"The fact that you've cleaned up prroves that you werre always morre," the ginger female replies, giving a faint smile. "I'm not nice eitherr, make no mistake, chief. I prretended to be Rrillitan's frriend forr months beforre I stuck the prroverrbial knife in his back. I neverr felt guilty about it, eitherr. Rrisk assessment, that's what I called it. Keeping yourr enemies close to you is a good way to watch them. Especially when they don't think that they'rre enemies any longerr." Swiftfoot nods and gestures to the empty glass. "Surrely. And it's still yourr turrn to ask me something, by the by."

Stars pours, carefully - ".. you stabbed that parranoid Timmie in the back?" He blinks. "I'm imprressed - you mentioned a bit of that beforre, but I'd have thought getting anywherre nearr his back an exerrcise in futility. Forrgive me - I don't parrticularrly carre much forr him."

Swiftfoot chuckles and picks up the glass, now not so empty, sipping of the contents. "He'd trried to collect a bounty on Captain Tachyon some time back. Afterr she disappearred... well, I made some frriendly overrturres, and he rreturrned in kind. I'm surrprrised it worrked, to be honest. I knew he was dangerrous, and could have taken me aparrt. Sad to say my combat skills then werren't quite what they arre now." A blink, a flick of an ear, and a short pause. "So, I suppose it was a matterr of keeping him close so I knew what he was up to. He even trraveled on boarrd the ship a few times. Afterr... afterr one of ourr missions, to one starrbase located, in fact, herre in the Tomin nebula, severral of my associates ambushed him. My engineerr essentially welded his rrestrraints to the shelving units in the storrage attic, and we brrought him herre to collect. Twenty five kay, when all was said and done."

"Decent prrofit for this kind of rrun." Stars settles back, picking up his own refilled glass - well, topped off, as it was never truly empty. "I'm glad to hearr he had a dose of humility. I did an escorrt gig for him when he firrst landed, and it seems the only thing he knew how to spew was a thrreat." He shakes that heavy head.. then pauses. "I suppose that means it's yourr turrn again." He takes a breath. "Rright."

"Mmh," the orange-furred pilot muses, tapping against the glass lightly with one claw. "I'll cop out and ask the obvious. Wherre'd you get the imprressive array of white spots grracing yourr hide?" Swiftfoot gives a wink and a wry grin. "Cmon, you had to know it'd get asked eventually."

"You know, you'rre the firrst perrson in /yearrs/ to ask that?" Stars flashes a grin - looking relieved. "A long, long time ago, I was in the Militia - back beforre the Sanctuarry. I was a lowerr-grade Lieuetenant, and we werre on rrotation in supporrt of a small pirrate action in the system. Trrust me when I say I was young, and stupid - but, I was lucky." He sips at his glass. "A grrenade went off mid-unit while I was chewing out a prrivate for something..." He pauses. "You know, I can't rremember. I rrealy can't. Heh. Funny.." He shrugs. "The shrrapnel left me slightly less monochrromatic - and with an unforrtunate nickname." He leans forward, then, thoughtful - asking, "Why'd you come back herre, Swiftfoot? I'm not complaining - I'm rreally not. But.. why?"

Swiftfoot blinks, one eyeridge quirking upward. "I rratherr like the nickname. Brrandon, who used to be my son-in-law, calls me Tailchaserr frrom time to time. How's that forr a nickname?" She chuckles. "How could I -not- come back, afterr all the messages we exchanged? It's so clearr to me that, even if you feel you belonged herre once, you don't any morre. I've gone and found the diamond in the dungheap. But hells, it's not even just that. You'rre... intrriguing, all that aside." She rolls her eyes and waves a paw vaguely. "It sounds awful, but I've been lonely forr a time as well. The Battleclaw is a good male and a good frriend, but ultimately, he's alrready Prromised. I had a companion myself not too long back, but... well, he turrned up dead. Trrampled by a bumblerr while out on a hunt. He liked to go out solo into the Sand Motherr, and the sands finally claimed his life." She trails off with a snort, giving a shake of her head before taking a drink from her wine glass, no mere sip this one.

Stars listens, toying with his glass - and then reaches down, into those cargos of his, carefully extracting a small - perhaps six inches long - faded and abused box, the fabric around the edges faded and stained. He turns it over in his claws - then holds it out to her. "... I'm not a diamond, prretty one. I'm not even surre I'm rreal anymorre. But.. I want you to do me a favorr, if you would. I don't rreally have the rright to ask - but I want you to have those. Just in case - beforre I'm tempted to sell them, or I end up on the wrrong end of a pulse rrifle." His tone is light. "... but how, by Brakir's brrass balls... did you end up with a son-in-law named Brrandon? Who did that kit's parrents owe?"

"You'rre rreal enough," Swiftfoot says, giving a wry half-smile. "I..." She trails off, not certain what to say, but accepts the box nonetheless. She doesn't open it just yet, however, giving a bark of laughter instead at the last comment. "I had a daughterr. Adopted. A Timonae named Solace. She... took herr own life not too long ago, arround the same time my companion turrned up." There's a brief pause, and another swallow of wine. "Brrandon was herr husband. A Marrtian, if you can believe that. It's a lovely little family. He's marrying a Lunite now. Demarr's Mercy." The ginger female gives a faint sigh, then looks down at the box, toying with it, her head tilting curiously to the side as she eases the lid up carefully.

It's ratty, that box - but inside, carefully polished, a pair of silver Captain's bars nestle in their spots in aging black velvet, slightly scratched, but still in very good shape.

"... I'm sorrry to hearr that, Prretty one." Stars offers a paw, tentatively. "It sounds like it. A lovely little family, I mean." He tries on a smile.. carefully.

Swiftfoot blinks in mild bewilderment, one of her ears lying back. "I... you surre, chief? About wantin me to hang onto em, I mean. They... dunno, seems like they'd be sorrta... I dunno, perrsonal. Like have some sentimental value." She quirks an eyeridge. "Funny, the keepsakes we end up with, pieces of ourr lives. I've still got Motherr's jewelrry. I took it off of herr so that it wouldn't end up a Nall trrophy." A blink, and a flick of one ear, and she lays her free paw in his. "It's not easy, losing family. I'll admit that. But she wouldn't want me to beat myself up overr it. So I trry to rrememberr herr like she was when she was alive, meh?"

"You'rre going to leave." Stars seems rueful - embarrassed, his ears flat, his tail flicking - and he shows no sign of taking back his paw. "I wish I had time for cerremony orr nicety, but I don't - this is T-K. I might turrn up tomorrow that hairr too slow.. and if I do, I'd prreferr those arre with someone I'm coming to carre a grreat deal forr." He pauses.. and adds, quite seriously - "I don't want to be forrgotten, Swiftfoot. I told you I was selfish." He reaches for his glass with that free paw - taking a large sip. "And deprressing apparrrently."

"Nobody wants to be forrgotten," Swiftfoot reasons, slim shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. "It's not selfish. And you best be carreful carring about me, chief. People who carre about me seem to turrn up all kinds of scrrewed, and not in good ways. Bounties and worrse things. Perrhaps if I'd stop trrying to do things like hack Waldheimian satellites..." She gives a sly grin and a wink. "Yeah... that was us. A few months back, a satellite went dead in the last few seconds of a football game. Ourr fault. Well, rratherr, that of a business associate, but still. I was EVA with him." She reaches for her own glass, finishing off the contents. "I may leave, yes. I've got two businesses I'm holding the strrings to. But you can be damn surre I'll be coming back. These will simply go somewherre safe until such time that you'rre away frrom this rrock forr good."

"I think, frrankly, a bounty is the least of the things I carre about." Stars chuckles. "What did you tell me? 'Stop telling me to be carreful, I can take carre of myself, thank you.' Well, ditto, my prretty one." He squeezes her paw.. then, reluctantly, returns it to her.

Swiftfoot laughs and nods. "That I did. that I did." She sighs a bit as the paw's returned to her, and takes the opportunity to slip the box into a pocket. "I... prrobably ought to get back to the ship," she ventures after a moment, albeit hesitantly. "If only to put these," she pats the pocket where the box now rests, "in a safe place. I can be bested. I know that all too well. It's flying I can't be outdone at." A wink of one of those golden eyes, and the ginger female chuckles. "I prrobably ought to let the crrew know that I landed safely, as well as the fact that I'll be staying a few days herre. They wanted to come with me, you know." She looks across the table at the other Demarian, the ghost of a smile on her face. "I didn't think that'd go overr too well."

"They'd prrobably be rright, you know - in telling you to rrun fast and farr." Stars stands then - and actually reaches out to touch that tufted cheek, flashing her a smile - suddenly a bit daring, it seems, and certainly closer to his usual, more laconic self. "I think they'd have to get thrrough me - anyone trrying to best you - and I may be slowing down, but I"m orrnerry, and have too many trricks to make /that/ easy." He pauses. "You'rre staying?" That seems to register - and his smile is wide. "We might have time to get that sparrring match in."

"I've got business to take carre of, but I can do it just as well frrom herre," the orange-furred pilot says, nodding. "We've got no home base, as such, so it's all handled shipboarrd. Makes things convenient." Swiftfoot closes her eyes and smiles as his hand brushes her cheek, her whiskers bristling. "I can't stay forreverr, but a few days, cerrtainly. The crrew can enterrtain themselves forr that long, at least. And I'll hold you to that. The sparring, I mean." She pushes her chair out from the table with a faint sigh and gets to her feet, her tail drooping slightly. "I don't wanna go, chief. I know I should, but... meh. I'd stay herre all night if I thought I could get away with it." l swiftfoot

Stars nods, slowly. "I.. I'd keep you herre, if I could." He straightens. "It's a damned sight nicerr than ourr rroom in the bazaarr, anyway - Rraleigh and I have a channel we talk on.." He pauses, fishing in his cargos for a scrap of paper, folded.. that gets held out to the ginger-furred female. "If you get into trrouble - orr if you end up awake and borred.." He lets that fade out, with a smile. "I have to get this picked up - and those trrays rreturrned beforre I end up in morre trrouble than I need to be in."

"This is nice," Swiftfoot agrees, nodding. "The Jackal is... utilitarrian. I'd gotten used to the Faux. Gone a bit soft, you could say." She chuckles and accepts the slip of paper, looking it over briefly before slipping it into a pocket. "I'll rrememberr that. I know all too well how easy it is to get into trrouble herre. Hells, last time, the Warren bailed me out. Funny how things go." A toothy grin is flashed, and the pilot quirks an eyeridge. "I guess I best leave you to yourr cleaning then," she quips, affecting an expression of faux-innocence as she saunters toward the staircase, her paws going to her pockets seemingly by long habit.

Stars watches her, yellow eyes oddly thoughtful. "Swiftfoot? Thank you." He brushes a clawtip along the table's edge. "And the wine... was second only to the company."

"Ditto," the ginger female calls, taking one of those paws from her pocket and waving a farewell as she starts down the stairs to the promenade.