Zinda leaned over a picked up a piece of underarmor from where it lay crumpled on the floor, she regarded it
casually for a moment before tilting her head in response to the pointed throat clearing from the bed behind
her. "You had something to say?"
A devronian sat up casually and eyed the zabrak woman. "Well, before we were...distracted. I was going to ask
what you were planning with the Mandalorian kid?"
"What business is it of yours?"
"Just rather not wake up to a hot headed kid standing over me with a blaster aimmed at my head is all."
"What I do with Torian is my business, what I do with you is my business. Either of you have an issue with that
you take it up with me or get out."
The devronian held up his hand is surrender. "No issues here, I'd just rather keep with the breathing thing, I've
gotten rather used to it."
Zinda turned and leaned back over the bed. "Or maybe you're just afraid you can't compete with a younger man."
"Ouch, that was a low blow, you know."
Zinda's golden eyes took in the devronian again. "Care to try to prove to me you can still compete then, Gault?"
"Well, since you put it that way," He lifted up the sheets in inviation, "I have a reputation to uphold, you
know."
Zinda allowed the armor she had been gathering to drop back to the floor and returned to the bed. "So, prove it"