Ship Converse

At the sound of the door sliding, Vahrran turns away from the painting. When he sees Ominae standing there, without skipping a beat he asks, "Something I can do for you?"

"I heard the intercom. Don't mean to intrude, but i figured this was as good a time as any."

* He steps in, and eyes the two men.

"Circumstances made us work together back there, but once we reach Starforge, we'll all probably be able to go our own ways. I'd like to know where you both stand on that."

Dake shrugged.

"I'll stick with this ship for now and take some jobs. We all need to eat after all. You can stay if you want, I could show you a few tricks to not get caught by the police."

He turned towards Vahrran and smiled at him.

"Not that I ever did anything illegal, of course. I'm an honest citizen."

"Well, before i do anything, i need to be able to get around, so i might take you up on that. But i have matters i'll need to take care of before long."

*He says it as if not realizing the enormity of that statement.

Vahrran approached the door to place himself between Ominae and possible entry. "Helping you recover and seeing you safely off of Coruscant, only to cut you loose on Starforge and walk away, would invalidate the former. I must uphold a civic duty in looking out for you."

"Life on the run or mucking about in a place like Starforge is a hazardous way to make a new start, and would work against and prevent opportunities for an education," he explained. "You need a permanent guardian, someone to guide you until you have reached the proper age of human adulthood."

"I appreciate all you did for me, Vahrran, but you're not obligated to me in any way. Besides, i do have a family, and the only way i can think to keep them safe right now is by staying away. Sooner or later, the Rep..."

*He catches himself.

"The Empire will catch up to me. Or if i live long enough, i will catch up to them. I don't think you want any part of that life. Either way, my proper development has come and gone."

"No, not me, if possible. Either way, I may not be obliged towards you, but to myself. And, if not to myself, then to my House." He approached the side of the door, raising his hand toward the manual control for the door. "I specified that this conversation was private. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Ziess:

"Nah, it was my bad for intruding."

*Walks out the door.

"Though you do have a personal comm-link you can use for that sort of thing, rather than the ship-wide intercom."

*Leaves.

Vahrran closes the door as Ominae leaves and locks it.

"I wanted to ask you what you plan to do once we find your ship," he continues. "I owe you to help search for and reclaim it, that was the deal. If we find it in Starforge, will we part ways there, and find our own way at the station while you fly off at light speed? If it means tracking her to a wampa-infested frozen wasteland and claiming it there, will you take it and run?"

"I guess I will? It's not like you have any other reason to follow me around. Of course, you can keep following me if that's what you want, Mr. the Investigator. Or maybe you could take the Stalker for yourself. I certainly won't keep this ugly piece of machinery that Lorah calls a ship once I get mine back..."

Vahrran nodded in understanding. "That will be all," he announced as he turned and left.

Vahrran breathed nasally in a calm sigh. The first time they visited this bar not 10, 20 minutes ago, they were confronted by two ill-meaning gentlemen, who must have been the bullies of this seedy bar. Thankfully, their second visit yielded no trouble.

"I need to sit and gather my thoughts," he informed Dake, extending an offer. "Would you care to join me for a beer?"

Dake smiled to the former law enforcer.

"Just one? There are so many bottles just waiting to be emptied. Come!!

He hurried Vahrran to a seat at the counter, sat beside him, then told the bartender :

"Two Corellian ale please."

"Two Corellian ales, straight up," says the Devaronian barkeep as he slides them to you. The mugs are dirty and the ale has turned a weird, dark brown. "10 credits, human."

"Thank you, but I prefer to order for myself at a barroom," Vahrran replied in response to Dake's initiative, letting his sincere offense, however mild, show more for their Devaronian host. He rose from the stool he was hurried to for a little emphasis from body language before turning to face the barkeep, and it certainly helped that he originally had a different seating arrangement in mind. "One We'anjan caramel ale, please, full bottle."

Smirking in distaste, the bartender produces a bottle of the ale from the refrigeration unit behind the bar. With practiced ease, he pops the bottle top with his bottle opener and sets it on the bar before Vahrran. "20 credits for the lot, blue-skin."

Vahrran forks over the credits, takes a drink, and departs without even a glance at his companion, eyeing a part of the room sparse of patrons.

Dake sighs, ignore the dirty drinks and go join Vahrran. As he takes a seat, he says :

"I guess I'll drink some air instead."

"Yes, next time we should be prepared to walk a distance to separate business from leisure." Vahrran took a drink. "So you and Loren are acquainted? What motivated her to commandeer your ship?"

"Lorah. Her name is Lorah."

Dake seemed strangely insistent on Vahrran getting her name right. 

"We entered the import/export goods industry at the same time, around ten years ago. We worked together for a while, but our employers found themselves at odds with the local authorities. So we decided to make a strategic retreat and take our employers' ships : she took the Stalker and I the White Ghost."

He smiled at his rival and looked around the bar for a second, making sure nobody was planning to jump on them for some stupid reason.

"Taking my ship for herself was probably her last idea of a prank. Well, okay, I may have called the police on her during our last encounter, but what she did... that's crossing the line!"

I hate being left out, so for the sake of RP, Ominae is somewhere being stoic and silent and all that. Cause that's him.

"Something worse than stealing the privately owned droid of a navy officer? And please don't say 'murder', that would be cliche."

"She stole my blasters' collection and sold it! All of my pistols! Some of the finniest, and rarest weapons that exist in the galaxy!"

Dake grumbles in disgust.

"Sending only the police after her was too nice."

"That's terrible. They must have meant a lot to you." He took another swig thoughtfully as he eyed the foundations and loose furniture without rubbernecking. Who were you working for originally?"