steahl: (Krissa)
[personal profile] steahl
Who: Krissa and NPCs
When: Just before (and after) she meets Avan
What: A spacepath and an omnipath walk into a bar...

She scrubbed a hand against her eyes and licked her lips; they were dry, her lips, and her stomach was far past empty, but that didn't matter, not right now. She'd hitched a ride on an outbound freighter after the last bar fight and now she at least had the comforting, gentle wash of space around her no matter that there were metal walls around her and a hulking engineer smiling in a nasty way.

You hitchhike and you take your chances; that had been a truism since old Terra and her brain found it an appropriate time to spit that fact forth. You hitchhike, you take your chances, and hold a weld cutter on the guy making inappropriate advances. Plasma tools were a girl's best friend and she seemed to recall...something.

Yes, something about being a raptor in a cage and a power on a leash. She recalled...dark ship halls. Who didn't light their ships properly? Ah, well, the memory fragment miiiight have to wait until later.

Back to the creepy man.

She smiled and shifted the cutter in hand, a manic grin all told, "Really?" she purred. "I'm working on keeping you, and your crew, away from the tender mercies of zero atmo babe. One shift, one wrong move...and this hull melts like butter."

Of course she was crazy.

Space didn't scare her.

The crew was quick to put her off at the next stop; a dingy, meteoroid of a port. It existed simply for the expedience of refueling and shifting questionable cargo. As a girl who held plasma against the atmo hull, well, she probably counted as the latter. The engineer of her acquaintance was a no show for the going away party.

Go figure. Guess he didn't love her after all.

"Krissa," she muttered to herself as she walked down the bridging hall, "Your name is Krissa." Easier to remember that if she repeated it. Still didn't seem real, her name, but she knew it was hers; she'd remembered it the moment she left the gravity well of that damn planet.

Granted, she had to find a new gig, and a new ship, before this crew spread the world.

Hell.

She was REALLY GOOD at burning bridges it seemed.

Oh well. Live and learn. She dropped the det device in the trash at the end of the hall; who cared if it would be hellish to find the explosives she'd rigged without it? They'd been an odious crew with terrible intent they deserved a random electrofield triggering hull damage if they didn't trace her devices properly!

Okay, self guided lesson of the week: She wasn't a nice person.

The fueling station wasn't exactly an ideal place to pick up a new ride; it held the hydrogen fuel lines, a brief supply store, and more bars than you could shake a Skellig at. Damn.

Getting a job wasn't the problem; she had a figure that lent itself to appreciation from most humanoids. No, the problem was in the fact that her 'job' wasn't in a ship bay but a bar. Not her finest moment, no, though her brain kept insisting she'd done the order slinging thing before.

She was going to have a chat with her brain at some point.

"Just a few more...HANDS TO YOURSELF DIRTSIDER!" she growled, eyes sliding over the corner table to pin the idiot at the sideboard. Something was nagging her but the stray hands (seven of them) were a bit more pressing. Sure, a goose or two meant good tips, which meant the means to buy an abandoned hopper, but there were limits. She drew the line a bit sooner than most that were serving.

"One more try and I'll...DUCK!" SHE DIDN'T START THE BAR FIGHT!

She really didn't. Rather than try to keep order (she wasn't getting paid to try) she scooted under the closest table and...huh. Those were knees under her head. She blinked and leaned her head back into the customer's lap, bemused. When had he gotten there? She'd...

...seen him....

...right?

He had the thin, cadaverous look of someone who'd been tanked in transit for far too long, and she would have noticed him if he'd come in and...

...and he was distracted by the fight raging around them, smiling a little smile that she was getting a really weird angle on from his knees. When had she seen him come in?

So her brain wasn't stellar, whatever, it was a bit more functional than most. Or at least oddly functional. She thought in ways she knew the people around her didn't. Maybe that helped her see her table companion a bit better. Whatever the cause..."You wanna duck," she noted, scooting her head off his lap in order to make sure there was room under the table for him. "Idiots get nasty here." As far as understatements went it wasn't the worst?

And it wasn't like they shared their life stories under the table while the world erupted around them or anything. In fact she really didn't spare the strange man another thought...until she saw him again.

It was months later. She had her own pod and she'd been skipping across the galaxy and she was in a bar. There was no law against a successful run earning a pint after all and...the first several swings behind her got drowned out by the awful, wailing, Camtren music. The next set was incredibly full of meaty impacts right near her ears and that wasn't at all comfortable.

She found refuge under a table; it was what sensible beings would do! And she found a boney set of knees under her head once again. "...we have to stop meeting like this," she noted, peering up his torso to the bottom of his chin. "Hello? Space cadet to patron? You look a little spaced out there..." Was he on drugs or something?

Maybe he was given she was having a hard time looking at him despite the fact that her head was in his lap again. Looking up at him made her eyes water and her head swim a moment but he was too interesting to look away from. "No offense but...I'm guessing you're weird," she noted after a lull in the fighting around them. Odd that none of it seemed to touch their little table.

Sure. Odd.

And she was dirt-footer by nature. Right.

"I'm guessing psion," she offered conversationally to his lower ribs. A psion who didn't want to be found. "From here your nostrils just scream 'Brain control'." Just saying. She had a crappy angle okay?

Whatever. Who was she to poke at the laws surrounding psions? Her luck she'd offended him six ways to a space lane with her irreverence! "Hold still will you? I'm going to nap until this is done and I can get safely back to my pod." Not that her potential misstep was going to stop her from being amused.

And tired.

Easy to trust a hidden guy in a corner, right?

Sure.

She was going to sleep.

On Regulus 6 she was starting to suspect he was a stalker.

By Altair she was hoping he wasn't a bounty hunter.

On Camborren she gave up and ended up under a table with her head on his knees again, "Seriously, there has to be better ways to do this."

And for the first time the boney, thin guy that had intersected her path so often looked down, relinquishing a bit of his attention from the latest bar fight, ::Oh...you::

"Yeah, you really should consider heading the opposite direction from me okay? Not that your knees aren't comfortable or anything..." One never could tell when criticizing a stranger; they could want her dead or they could want to shower her in creds. Still best to hedge statements in with weird compliments!

And hey, 50-50 were good odds!

On Phoran she didn't even wait for the fight to erupt around them, she just sidled up to his table and smiled, amused. "So, I had this team idea..."
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