Star Wars: Edge of the Empire

Roleplay log: <3 besties <3

an e-mail rp log

(OOC – this presumably takes place a while after Callia woke up from her nap and left for food. Zet was very sulky)

Aris Shen secured two rooms for the ragtag little crew. Given the way Ingrid seems kinda grumpy with about half of the group, Zet diplomatically suggests that she and Qurzer take the smaller one together, while the larger one can handle three. She can’t be mad with the Selonian who just took a flying leap off a transport to save her life, can she?

That leaves Zet, Callia, and Santos to share the other one, which features a pair of double beds as well as a kitchenette and small seating area. Aris wasn’t kidding when she said modest. But it’s not uncomfortable. Zet, who has been pretty uncharacteristically quiet after explaining the bounty hunter situation to the group, immediately slinks onto one of the beds, kicks her boots over the edge, and zonks out for a few hours.

She doesn’t come out to explore the ship when she wakes up, either. She just figures out how to call room service to have a meal delivered and stays put, which is where Santos might find her – sitting on the floor with her back leaning on the dresser, poking through the contents of her belt with a half-eaten plate of breakfast beside her. The Twi’lek just looks tired.

Santos stands in the threshold of the room for a minute, moving his hand over the right side of his abdomen, feeling the alien, mountain range of flesh that had been perfectly smooth a day earlier. He’d spent a few hours silent in the room while Zet slept, blaster in hand, ready to take out anything that entered. After a time he figured they were safe for the moment, and roamed the ship for an hour, trying to enjoy whatever luxury he could. Didn’t work.

He sits down on the floor beside Zet, inviting himself to share the half-picked over plate. “We made it, right?” He says quietly, an attempt at comforting his friend.

Tired or not, Zet’s hand twitches towards the blaster laying on the floor beside her as soon as the door starts to open. She’s visibly relieved to see that it’s only Santos, her hand withdrawing into her lap as she leans back again. When he comes to sit with her, she automatically budges over to make the room, and hardly bats an eye as he goes for the food. Chances are she was done with it anyway. “Barely,” she agrees, looking over and up at him. “Thanks to you and Callia.”

Santos shrugs. “There is no barely. This is a pass or fail kinda thing, and we passed.” Santos isn’t used to this side of Zet. She’s the talker. She’s always talked their way into, and out of everything, well, almost everything. “Think about it. They sent their worst at us, and we passed. That’s something to celebrate, isn’t it?”

She nods slowly, her eyes drifting away from him as she mulls that over. He’s right, honestly — they should all be living it up in the casino right now after what they just survived. But the Black Suns’ bounty just became extremely real in a way it never was before, and… “You almost died,” Zet persists quietly. “Or… I mean, what if Callia hadn’t cut the rope, and then that bounty hunter had taken off with both of us…? It’s… um, it’s just… it’s a lot to process right now.”

Santos gently picks up Zet’s hand and places it on his chest. “Feel that?” he asks as he locates a rhythmic beating. “That’s the heart beat of someone very much alive. Almost doesn’t count. There have been tons of almosts.” He grins at her and his eyes become two red crescent moons in the dark room, “and if she hadn’t cut the rope, the bounty hunter would have had two pissed off smugglers to contend with. I’d say Callia did her a kindness.”

The Twi’lek focuses on her hand, studying her slender green fingers against the darker colour of Santos’ shirt and feeling the thump of his heart beneath her palm. She’s quiet again for a long moment, just nodding and chewing on her lower lip. “Sorry,” she says at last. “You’re right that it’s not our first close call. Maybe it’s just that this one felt really… personal. Like I hope you’re right that she was literally the worst the Suns have got, because otherwise…”

“Because otherwise we may have a challenge,” Santos has a tendency to downplay risks, or maybe he just doesn’t have a solid grasp of his own mortality. Either way, he’s confident about just about everything, and that can be infectious. “We know how this hunter works, and we can plan for that. If anything else come our we we’ll deal with it. The two of us, and maybe our new friends.” Are Callia and the others friends? Zet’s the only person who’s fit that title so far. They haven’t tried to kill him yet, so there’s that.

Yeah, Santos’ devil-may-care attitude plus Zet’s own cocky demeanor doesn’t always equal the healthiest of outcomes for them. Then again, they’ve just proven that neither of them is above beating a hasty retreat. She can’t quite help but laugh at him, even if she sounds a little bewildered by how flippant he’s being about all of this. “I think Callia’s on our side,” she says with a small nod, slowly taking her hand back. “Probably Qurzer too, at least because Aris paid him to be.” She looks up at him again, searchingly this time. “You’re really feeling okay? You were on fire.” There’s still the faintest flicker of guilt in her eyes, but she’s sounding less mopey. Quickly, she adds, “I mean literally, but you also did good.”

“Yeah, the fire wasn’t my favourite, but did you SEE this scar?!” Santos raises up his shirt to display his new trophy. “Tell me this doesn’t make me look like a badass!” He lets the shirt drop back down and meets her eyes, “WE did good. Unless one of the hits I took damaged my memory, you didn’t just lay over and take it. That’s why I know we can take anything that comes our way.”

Zet carefully schools her features at the sight of the scar, no doubt because she’s somewhat less excited about it than he is, but she doesn’t say anything aloud to rain on his parade. Everyone survived and no one got dragged away on a rope by a bounty hunter. That’s what she should be focusing on. “I dunno, for a while there I think Tabarith might’ve been cutting off the oxygen to your brain. You were looking a little sky blue,” she teases with a smirk.

“See, that’s why I keep you around,” he returns the jab, “you’re the only one who knows how to monitor my oxygen intake.”

He stands up, and shakes his legs a bit to get the blood flowing again. “I saw a desert bar in the dining room that must have had a hundred kinds of cake. Care to join me?” He offers with an extended hand.

Zet grins at him, but when he invites her out she hesitates, glancing from his hand to the door and then up at his face.

She can’t be an agoraphobe forever. Not in this line of work.

“Maybe just for a little while,” she concedes, grabbing her belt and blaster in her other hand as she lets him hoist her to her feet. Quickly affixing both around her hips where they belong, she gives her shoulders a little roll as though steeling herself. “Only because I’m really excited to not be eating slugs.”