Mira didn't quite remember agreeing to this - any of it. She hadn't had a good sleep since the streets were full of talk that a Jedi was in town, and here she was, sleeping on the damn man's ship, or at least trying to and failing miserably.

The Exile was prolific, if anything, and despite the palpable sense of animosity that coursed the ship, it seemed that the ex-Jedi or whatever the hell he was calling himself these days was uncannily talented at drawing aide. Mira would have scoffed, surely, but she was one of them. Some big idiot, I am.

After the debacle in the Jekk-Jekk Tar and the mess on G0-T0's yacht, Mira wasn't sure exactly when she'd signed up for this. If anything, she owed the Exile a favor for getting her out of Visquis' labyrinth, but beyond that? She wasn't sure why she was here, but was at least immediately thankful that she didn't have to look over her shoulder for Hanhaar always breathing down her neck. But it wasn't like there weren't others who might want to breathe down her neck and get all up into her business, or at least want her out of theirs.

Every corner of the ship was already occupied, and while there were spare beds abound, Mira had no intention of bunking with the ex-Sith (so she says) Visas or the probably-a-Sith Kreia. There was room in the cockpit, given there was a co-pilot's chair, but Atton's snoring could be heard from the garage and Mira didn't even want to venture just how loud the racket was up close. She was sure the Disciple would welcome her in the medbay, given it was a spacious lab provided the ship's size, but she wasn't quite ready to make small talk with the man just yet, already keen to the eager look in his eyes upon meeting her. She couldn't blame him, though. He was the only normal seeming one on the ship, and by normal she meant completely un-normal in that he managed to retain a sense of purpose and positivity about himself despite all that had happened to him and everyone else he'd ever known. Mira hoped she'd be as well-adjusted one day, but today was not it. Not by a long shot.

The canteen was empty, more a wet bar than a proper kitchen, save for an inactive HK droid. She found it both odd and unsettling that the thing was left to slump there against the canteen counter like an overworked butler, and not just for the odd positioning of the damn thing but for the fact that there were about a million other HK models looking to shoot the Exile in the back. Or front. Whatever side seemed most convenient, really.

The common area was rather sprawling for a freighter, but Mandalore often took to the console in there, reading reports and sending correspondence to his men and women on Dxun - and Mira wasn't exactly ready to open that can of worms, either.

So instead she sighed, quelling the internal panic attack rising in her throat as she stood with her back to the wall just outside the cargo bay, hungry for sleep. If anything, she may just duck into the engine room. It was the loudest corner of this damned ship, and the only one that seemed comforting at the moment - if it weren't for the screams and thumps coming from the room behind her.

What the hell?

No one else on the ship stirred, but the sound was indistinguishable. Someone was in the cargo hold, and something was going down.

Mira inhaled, swallowing her fears and insecurities, almost thankful for the distraction. Within the span of a moment, she had her rocket launcher enabled, a poison dart at the ready. She nodded (as if there was anyone else to nod at or to) and turned the corner.

She slid her open palm against the panel to the cargo bay silently, so as not to draw attention, and immediately drew her wrist launcher - only to stand there dumb-founded as a naked woman met her waking eyes.

"I really need to sleep," she didn't realize she was muttering, until she noticed the white-haired girl glaring at her with eyes like ice was in fact real, and also incredibly upset that she was here.

"Excuse me," she said, not moving from the center of the hold, "Can you please leave the premises? I'm practicing."

There was an air of iciness to her voice that matched her eyes, and her hair if Mira thought about it. The girl remained still, holding a pose as if she were about to ground herself before roundhouse kicking an imaginary adversary, which Mira could only guess was being stood in for by the stack of crates in the center of the room.

"Sorry, I-" Mira blubbered, her eyes darting just about everywhere as she took in the scene - the crates, the cargo hold, the naked woman standing in what could hardly be considered her underclothes, "I heard fighting?"

"I'm training, I'll have you know," the woman said, assuming a more casual stance though Mira thought there was almost nothing casual about it, other than the fact that she didn't look as ready to pounce on something as she did a moment ago, "And this is my space, so I'd appreciate it if you let me be."

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone would be in here," Mira said, sounding more like the Exile than like herself. She'd known the guy for a few days and she was already taking cues. As if Mira needed any more reason to believe her rough childhood was a thing of the past. Frack.

"Well, these are my… quarters," the young woman said, waving a hand about as if she were trying to convince not only Mira but herself that this was a livable space. "And I'm busy."

"Sorry, sorry," Mira said, raising her hands in mock surrender, "Getting out of your hair."

She promptly turned around and felt the door shut at her back before her hand could palm the panel again, the girl eager to get rid of her.

"Damn."

Mira sighed again, and resigned.

The canteen it is.

She wasn't sure when exactly she'd woken up, but she was sure the droid beside her wasn't plotting her murder, despite the fact that it's eyes were glowing now. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light…

It was one of those things where Mira didn't exactly remember waking up but also wasn't exactly sure when she'd stopped dreaming, too, but somehow her eyes were open and they'd been open for some time, despite her having no memory of having opened them.

I need a bed, she thought. A real fracking bed.

She conceded to make good with the Disciple, the nerd - Mical, she thought she'd heard the Exile call him. There were two medical tables in the medbay, and so far sharing a room with the wide-eyed optimistic one was at least a move she was willing to make now. She couldn't trust Kreia or Visas just yet, but then again, weren't the nice ones the people you needed to really look out for? She wondered if there was room on the floor of the Exile's private room… or maybe she could sleep out by the garage…

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize-" a voice interrupted her half-sleep as she half-stood against the canteen counter.

It was the girl from yesterday, the one the Exile mentioned but not by name, the one Mira forgot about upon boarding this damn ship and ran into while she was damn near naked.

"Realize what?" was all Mira could say, all sharp edges and annoyance, as usual.

The girl's blue eyes flashed as she crossed her arms over her chest - which was now clothed, Mira noticed.

"Is this where you'll be staying? I can make it a point to visit the canteen when-"

"Oh, no, dear Maker, no, I just-"

The realization of just how sad this seemed only dawned on her as the girl said it, and Mira vowed to find a new headquarters by the following evening, or whatever schedule the Exile followed that allowed for sleep. In space, it was hard to tell.

"I didn't have anywhere else to stay, so-" Mira said, sounding more sure of herself than she was, "Didn't feel like staking a claim on any place I wasn't sure of, at least not until-"

"The engine room is free," the girl interrupted, her arms still stiff across her chest, her expression cool, "If you wanted a place to yourself, that is."

"I considered that," Mira admitted, "Maybe I will."

The girl nodded and turned on her heel, leaving Mira there alone with the HK droid looking eerily up at her.

"Well, then," Mira said, almost flustered by how quickly she'd come and gone and how she still didn't know this damn girl's name, "Good day."

Mira made a mocking flourish with her hand she knew mystery girl wouldn't see as she watched her retreating back disappear beyond the common area and around the end of the hall. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mandalore punching something into the center console and shaking his head, either at the news he was reading or at her - out of fear it was the latter, Mira closed the canteen door and locked the damn thing.

Mira still found herself hanging around the canteen when she was awake, oddly thirsty now that she wasn't anchored on Nar Shaddaa. She wasn't sure if it was a nervous tick or if there was something slimy about the atmosphere of the Smuggler's Moon that the Ebon Hawk lacked, which was probably better for her health if anything.

She would usually hang near the door, leaning up against the wall so she could escape into the small room if need be, or dart out to the garage if she wanted to get away. She kept the engine room within view, her only true refuge, but she didn't want it to become her room, lest people start looking for her there. Mira reserved that room only for sleep and emergencies. So far, all she'd needed was sleep, potential emergencies hopefully not abound.

But when she hung around the common area, she tried not to watch Mandalore too closely, and tried to act like she didn't care, as she felt about most things. But she had to wonder - did he know? Could he tell she was Mandalorian? Or at least raised by them? Was he disappointed she'd fallen into a life of bounty hunting, even if she still held herself to a standard and was the best in the business to boot? She didn't know why she cared, and hoped it was more curiosity than anything.

If she wasn't already worried about parental issues upon meeting the Exile and her obvious hunger for guidance, for comfort, for some semblance of home or belonging, she was damn sure of it now and wished to hell the thought would just leave her be.

"Can I just-?" a voice cut in, shaking Mira out of yet another reverie, "Can I just get by you for a moment? I'd like a drink."

It was the girl again, still nameless, still white-haired, still sporting the same resting bitch face - an expression Mira wore well.

"Yeah, sure," Mira near grunted, tearing her eyes away from the common area's console and the man sitting at it, "Go to town."

Mira crossed her arms tight across her chest and walked over to the lounge, sitting side-long at the round settee with her legs propped up against the broken dejarik table in the center. Allowing herself a moment to gather her thoughts and quell her inner urge to punch something, she unsheathed her wrist launcher, flexing her fingers as the weight of the thing released its grip. Setting the device gently in her lap, Mira began picking at bits of debris from the smaller compartments, as if she had meant to do this anyway, regardless of whether the girl showed up or not.

"Restless?"

Mira turned her head, surprised to find the girl still here. She stood with her back against the wall beside the canteen, her hands wrapped around the plastene cup she was sipping from.

"Who's asking?"

It was more of a reflex than a true response, but Mira was already rolling her eyes when the girl responded.

"...I'm asking."

Mira couldn't tell if she was being dense or had a dry sense of humor. Or perhaps she was just plain serious. Mira shifted on the lounge to look at her better, draping one arm across the back of the settee.

"No kidding."

The girl pursed her lips and raised a brow, shaking her head.

"Suit yourself."

Mira wondered if she'd meant to say something else, if there was a reason she was asking. But she was already gone with her cup of water, or whatever the hell it was, and scowled as she got back to work.

The ship was always bustling, but never busy enough for Mira to get lost in, to go unnoticed. She was either always in someone's way, or someone was in hers. Either that, or someone wanted something from her, asking questions or just plain making small talk. Most everyone fell into the former category while the Exile and Mical were the only ones to embody the latter. Mira wasn't sure which was worse.

When they weren't docked planetside, Mira did her best to make herself scarce or to at least wear a scowl that said leave me alone. This usually worked, unless Atton was in the room.

"What's the matter with you? Not blown anyone up lately?" he'd sneer playfully, in one way or another. Yesterday, he asked who was set in her sights to receive a poison dart, and before that it was a straightforward punch to the face. Today, Atton was thinking grenades.

He was lucky he shared the same snide humor as Mira, otherwise she might just hit him upside the head. Hell, she probably still would.

"I've got the itch," she said as she tracked their progress on the nav computer, playing along but not entirely lying, as always, "If we don't land somewhere soon, you're my first target."

"Please and thank you," Atton replied dryly, punching in codes at the pilot's chair, "It's about damn time."

Mira smiled at that, despite the fact she could tell the man was and wasn'tjoking.

She left the cockpit and slumped into her usual spot in the main hold, intent on cleaning her boots and sharpening the knife she kept hidden in it. Atton filled Mira's "interacting with people" quota nicely. He didn't ask any real questions and he was never truly serious. Atton had the air of a Nar Shaddaa refugee about him. It almost felt like home. Plus, it seemed that both she and Atton had a limit, their conversations ending naturally after a few minutes, neither of them ever pressing further before going their separate ways.

But then there was the girl, the Handmaiden the others called her, though Mira wondered if she had a name at all. When she wasn't running into Mira she was silently watching her, careful and quiet, and Mira wasn't exactly sure what to think about it. She did the same with a few of the others, the Exile in particular, and Mandalore. But Mira could tell this was different.

After the first few incidents, Mira could tell the girl didn't mean anything by it, but she still wanted to know why. The moment Mira felt a pair of eyes on her - those now-familiar irises, a mix of ice-blue and sharp violet - whether she was in the main hold or near the canteen, Mira'd let the feeling linger, she'd let the girl watch. And then, today, she looked back at her.

But when their eyes met - the girl's silent study session cut short when she was found out, her eyes going wide - Mira didn't find herself annoyed or bothered, and she wasn't thinking about grenades as Atton had guessed. She was, instead, simply… curious. And Mira had a feeling the girl watched her for much the same reason.

Notes:

I always felt like Brianna and Mira made sense together. They couldn't be more different when they join your party in-game, but their character development throughout the game felt complementary to me - so here we are. I plan on working this relationship into Out of the Abyss/The Dark Wars but likely from Brianna's POV. There's no other reason for a male Exile here other than I happen to be in the middle of a playthrough with one, so he just sort of stuck, even if he's only referred to by his moniker. In any case, here's my contribution to this rare-pair 33 I hope you enjoy.