Eclipse

Linora Sunfell stood in the suite of the now deceased Zerrid An, examining the scene of the crime.

"What does it look like happened?" A gruff voice came from the communicator. Linora examined the body causally, already pretty confident of what she would find.

"Looks like he succumbed to his favorite past time. Autoerotic asphyxiation with a side of Inertia overdose," she reported coolly as if her employer shouldn't be surprised to hear such a thing.

"So, an accident?" the voice queried.

"Possibly, let me just check his data..."Linora spoke into her communicator, as she glanced through the files on his datapad."So, that vacation he took last month? Turns out he was on Nar Shaddaa."

"The Hutts were trying to poach my scientist?" Xomit Grunseit growled in response.

"Didn't have to try hard..." she murmured. "He sent them a shipment of his latest batch of Inertia."

"That rat!" the falleen exploded into his communication device.

"It's fine, sir. He only sent them a shipment, not his recipe. Which we still have." Linora explained, confidently. "Once the Hutts get their population addicted to Inertia, they will have to come to us for more supply."

"That is...solid reasoning, Sunfell. You may have a Vigo position in your future. If such a thing ever opens up."

Linora bent over at the side table, examining the broken vial on the floor. She smiled to herself as the cloying scent filled her nostril. "Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if it did."

*****

"Discrete, but with no witnesses. Got it." Quinn pursed his lips at her final question. "And yeah, I do. Since I'm the discrete backup, do you want me sitting out in the speeder? Or do I need to get a nice suit and tag along?" He gave a small shrug and rummaged around in his belt pouches. "Again, either one's fine. But you'll want this if I'm staying outside." With that, he tossed her a small package. Opened, it revealed two small lozenges.

"Well, I don't usually travel with a bodyguard, so it's going to look suspicious if you came up with me," Scarlet reasoned.

"Those are passive transmitters," he explained. "Designed to be swallowed - souvenirs of a discrete job I took a while back. Top secret Republic stuff, very hush hush. Keyword and voiceprint coded so they won't broadcast unless you trigger them. And then it's a compressed burst on a randomized cycle - once every three to ten seconds." He leaned back, watching her reaction. "They digest or pass through, so I wouldn't swallow one until you're getting ready tomorrow." Another moment's pause as he watched her face - not a difficult thing, really. She was easy to watch.

"Also," he added with a wink, "plenty of time to have it checked for poison. You don't know me from Chancellor Valorum, after all. I'm not gunning for you, but I'd be disappointed if you didn't take the precaution."

"Sounds good. And yes, I will have these checked for poison or drugs or things I am allergic to. Hell, you might kill me by accident, without even meaning to. And have the Black Sun come down on your ass."

With that, he turned his attention back to the copied files. "In the meantime, I'll see about committing the blueprints here to memory. And scope out the site. Discretely. Figure out the best approaches, things like that. I really don't like surprises, unless I'm the one doing the surprising."

He tucked the datapad away. "But that'll have to wait. I'm supposed to have retained your services for a couple of hours. It'll do bad things to my reputation if I'm out of here in fifteen minutes. You got anything else you want to go over? You're the one on the sharp end, after all."

"Stay awhile. My, well, Shadi's reputation on the line too, if she can't keep her clients occupied and enthralled for more than fifteen minutes," Scarlet offered, standing up to stretch now. She put the package he gave her down on with on the vanity, mixed among the various makeup and perfumes.

"I am pretty set on my end of things. It's not anything I haven't done before..." She started, looking through her wardrobe and picking out potential outfits for tomorrow. Pleasant tension filled the silence until she broke it by giggling.

"There's, uh, nothing stopping us from fucking, at least nothing I know of. It would pass the time." She said turning now with a wink. "You could be one of the lucky few I fuck and don't kill after or during." She picked a strappy black dress with high slits and a low neckline. Holding up against her body she turned towards him.

"I could fuck and not get murdered?" Quinn laughed. "What a generous offer!" It was tempting, though. Even in prosaic slacks and tank top, she was stunning. And in that leather dress she'd worn in the bar..? She was an erotic dream come to life. And then she picked up a dress - could you call that black assemblage of straps and spaces by that word? - and held it up to her body.

"What do you think? Would this make you stupid enough to lower your guard?" She asked, with a teasing glimmer in her gaze.

He licked his lips, visualizing her in that outfit. And then out of it. "I think it would," he said returning her frank gaze. "I can feel the thought of it draining the blood from my brain."

"Why don't you tell me about that lightsaber. Every bounty hunter I come across with one has an epic story to tell about how he wrenched it from his opponents hands."

That drew a chuckle from him. "An epic tale?" He shook his head, laughing. "Not really, and I'm convinced that the majority of the people who do have one are lying their balls off."

"Oh, I am sure too. Doesn't make their fantastic accounts any less entertaining," Scarlet clarified, hanging the straps passing for a dress on the inside of the wardrobe, "So you have about ten years' worth of bragging and tall tales to compete with. I've heard all nature of them, from men and women trying to get between my sheets and legs."

Watching her reaction carefully, he drew the saber and turned the gunmetal hilt in his hands. "See, not all lightsabers are Jedi weapons. This one, for instance, was manufactured on an AdascaTek production line in the Arkania system. They manufacture a few thousand a year, catering to a select market." He flipped the hilt in the air and caught it. "Wanna-be's, mostly. And a few people like me, swordsmen who don't want the bulk of a vibroblade and who see the practical utility of a tool that cuts through most anything."

Another grin. "So my epic story? I headed over to Arkania IV and dropped a couple of grand in a factory. Pricey, but it doesn't come with the recurring costs of killing a Jedi and waving one of their swords around." He clipped it back to his belt. "I don't mind that kind of heat from business, mind. But not because I'm trying to save some money."

*****

"Oh, my dear Quinn," Kaydia started, meeting his gaze with one of her own. "the truth? Never go with the truth!" She took up a firing stance now, holding her hands in a mock gun formation. "No, no, you were tracking a daring Jedi." She pantomimed a run motion, hiding behind the chair in a dramatic fashion. "They had you pinned, every shot you took, reflected back." She made a few firing motions, followed by exaggerated dodging motions. "So you had to outsmart them. You managed to get behind them and..." She flicked her wrist with flair, making the blaster sound with her mouth.

"Besides, it's not like there is much in the way of Jedi presence, all the way out here," She said softly, coming dangerously close to something approximating sincerity. She pushed back against the buried emotions and gave her guest a pointed look. "Now, for telling the truth? I am going to have to rescind that offer of sex. Amateur move there, my friend, amateur move."

"Amateur move?" Quinn protested, miming a hurt expression. "You've been associating with wanna-bes for far, far too long. Honesty is always the best policy, professionally and personally." He tried to hold the hurt expression as he added. "At least, that's what my last girlfriend liked to say. Until I told her about how I wanted a threesome with this hot Chikladorian I'd been seeing on the side..." The hurt expression wavered as a cheeky grin spread across his face. "Turns out she didn't care for honesty."

He looked around the room. "How about you? Is prostitution just a cover, or a second line of work?"

"What, trying to figure out if you can afford me?" She teased, dropping to the bed now.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "How honest should I be, right now?"

"It a rather good cover. Maybe if I ever retire from this..."

"Not bloody likely," Quinn said, flatly. "People like us, we don't retire. Even if we try..." He patted the blaster on his hip. "This life never lets us go. I'!ll probably die from a blaster bolt in the back. Or maybe someone like you will kill me if I ever get successful enough."

His words held more truth than she liked to admit, but she didn't want to dwell on that now. It was a depressing thought, while she was sober enough to process it. And she really didn't want to end the evening this way. He was a pleasant distraction from a life filled with angst and regret, and she wasn't ready for that to end.

"Hungry? I can have some food sent up," She offered, pulling out the room service menu. "And don't worry, I'll make sure to look appropriately disheveled when I open the door." She placed an order of kommerken steak with ootoowergs, for both of them.

It was easy to be around him. The playful banter, the longing looks, the exchanged smiles. If it were a first date, it would be an unqualified success. Even the awkward silences never seemed to last long.

But it wasn't a date. It wasn't a casual meeting between people seeking to ease the loneliness afflicting them. It was a meeting of professionals, to discuss the men they intended to kill tomorrow, under the guise of a prostitute and john. Maybe in a different life, they could have been something more, something beyond starships passing between the same stars.

"So, how has Mustafar been treating you? Like the hive of scum and villainy it's known to be?" She ribbed, stretching out over the bed.

"Nah," he chuckled. "It's not as bad as all that. Most of the scum indulge in professional villainy, so there's no violence without reason. Been a vacation, really." He gestured skyward. I've done a lot of work in the Core, and even on Coruscant." A flicker of a smile. "Mustafar - even Nar Shadda and NalHutta - have nothing on the noble houses or merchant princes for scum or villainy."

Coruscant. Damn, had long had it been? Ten, eleven years? She was a different person then, with a different life ahead of her. She would have never met someone like him when she was there. Not like this, while they joked about fucking and killing.

He peered at her, again appreciating the form on the bed. "Seems to have done well by you."

Mustafar, he meant. She swallowed down the scoff she wanted to release. Real fucking well for me. Junkie, whore, killer. My master would be so proud...

Kaydia managed a weak shrug. "Alright, I guess. Better than being a slave, or whatever." She muttered, recognizing the irony in her statement. She wanted to will herself to say something witty and clever, to fall back into flirting with him, but the burden of her life on Mustafar was weighing down on her now. Fortunately, there was a knock at the door, and a hologram of a waiter with two trays on a platter came up. She approached the door, slipping back into the wig and pulling her fur jacket over her as if she had come naked from the bed to the door. She took the plates, with a smile and a wink, and brought them back over to him, setting it down on the table.

"I think I have a bottle of Alderaan wine unless you want something stronger," she advised pulling out a bucket of ice and fetching the preferred vintage. "Aged 5 years, so a bit newer. I'll pull out the ten-year vintage when we are successful, tomorrow."

"Nah, wine's fine," Quinn said, sipping his drink. "I don't have the most refined of palates, but this isn't bad." He took another sip. "Left to my own devices, I'm more of a beer man. With an occasional whiskey."

She poured a couple glasses and took a seat, meeting his eyes. She was determined to figure out exactly if they were blue or green, even if it took all meal. Eating a fine meal, drinking wine, gazing at one another in the dimness of the room.

It was how funny how easily this meeting between slipped back towards a date.

Quinn cut a bite of steak, speared an ootowerg, and tucked it into his mouth. "Now steak? Very much a steak man. And the chef here has done an excellent job." Throughout the meal, Quinn kept looking up at her. Kaydia knew this, because she kept glancing up to look at him, and met his eyes nearly every time. It could have been awkward, catching each other staring like that, but never got that far. Just giddy exchanged smiles and a warmth crawling up into her cheeks and pooling in her stomach. It was unusual for her to flirt with a person she was actually attracted to.

"All right, I'm gonna be nosy." Quinn declared. He gestured absently around the room with his fork. "This room's a cipher. As much a professional mask as 'Shadi' or even 'Scarlet'. Makes sense, I guess. But... what do you do for fun? Fucking and killing can't be your whole life."

"You'd be surprised. I don't usually have a handsome man to do my legwork." She winced slightly at the admission of finding him attractive, but what was the point? It was more fact than opinion at this point, and surely he was aware of it. Men like him knew that they were handsome.

"Usually I have to stalk my target, learn their schedule and routine, come up with a plan, scout out the place where I plan to kill them...It's rather time-consuming, in reality. And when I am not doing all that? Well, keeping my skills fresh and current is rather demanding as well." She took a couple large bites, chewing slowly giving herself time to find a better answer to give him. What else did she do? Stewing in my anger, getting loaded off drugs and planning elaborate revenge plots. That sounded...depressing. But even before she was pulled into this life, there wasn't much time for hobbies. Padawans were kept awful busy between missions, as it were. Training with the force, with their lightsabers, the endless meditating...

"I keep up appearances. I party with high rollers, I shop and blow thousands on shoes and clothes and jewelry. I keep up with the gossip and drama of the famous and infamous. It, uh, sounds rather vapid, when you say it aloud like that, doesn't it?" She said with a sigh.

Quinn finished up the last of his steak. "It does sound vapid," he agreed. "But, hell, that's what downtime is for. A couple of drinks, a little gambling, some work translating the Mrynnryoth Yal'Vedar from archaic Yarloti R'ylothic..." Grinning, he made a show of covering his mouth and looking embarrassed. "Oops. There I go again, being honest. Does that mean the offer of dinner is now withdrawn as well?"

She pushed her empty plate aside, filling her glass with more wine. Looking over at the clock, she drained her glass in a single long swallow."Your time is about up. Unless you wanted to pay for another hour," She purred running fingers over his hand. But she knew he wouldn't. There were things to do, before the job tomorrow, and they were both too professional to let base urges and ridiculous chemistry get in the way of that. Besides, they would be spending lots of time together, in the next few days.

"Oh, it's not a question of whether I want to pay," he answered, winking. "But I've glanced at your rates, and I'm frankly surprised anyone believes I can afford them." Regretfully, he pushed himself back from the table and rose. "So, should I muss up my hair? Maybe try to walk a little funny? After all, you've got a reputation to maintain."

*****

Ignoring the glances he received as he emerged from the elevator, Quinn crossed the dance floor and headed for the door. Outside, he waited patiently while the valet brought him his speeder, and then tipped the man generously as a way of apologizing for making him drive the beat-up old junker he owned. The valet - human, because the Velvet Spire prided itself on having all of its staff available - nodded and smiled, and Quinn slipped into the driver's seat. It groaned a little, the worn synthleather of the seats creaking and cracking, and he shoved an empty box of takeout noodles into the cluttered well of the passenger's seat. He'd probably need to clean that out before tomorrow night, just in case. No need to risk blowing a job on a cluttered vehicle. The speeder's engine purred to life without hesitation. Like so many of his possessions, he let it present a beaten and battered mask while ensuring that it functioned perfectly.

"So," he murmured aloud as he moved the speeder into traffic. "The infamous Scarlet is Force-sensitive? This puts a whole new intriguing spin on matters."