A/N: This was written for an OC challenge over at the JC Fan Fiction forums. I decided to play around with a couple of characters (Seline and Nyixa) from my OC-centric spy story Dead Man Walking. This takes place before DMW and is completely separate from that story, so don't feel the need to read DMW to understand what is going on here. Just take it as a couple of spies at a normal day at work.

Some Negotiation Required

Seline stared across the table. Her long fingernails tapped lightly on its surface, somewhat in time with the beat of the low music grinding out of the sound system. The corners of her mouth twitched, neither smiling nor frowning.

"Well?"

The target of her gaze – a greasy-haired man named Tamrin, who, in Seline's opinion, deserved a better lot in life than he had been granted him, like being at the bottom of a garbage heap – looked back at her, the traces of a sneer on his lips. He swilled the remains of his drink around the bottom of his glass. "It's your move, Seline. I'm just waiting for you."

Seline leaned back in her seat. "I didn't come here tonight to have a staring contest."

"Oh dear. And here was me expecting you to find some inner stirring of your emotions whenever you looked me in the eye."

She chuckled, her eyebrows raised. "You hardly fit my calibre."

Tamrin clucked his tongue. "What a shame, what a shame." He raised his near-empty glass in a mocking toast and drained it in one gulp.

"Are you finished? I would rather not sit here all night."

"My, my, you are impatient."

"And you are getting on my nerves."

Tamrin shrugged. "I hear it's a talent of mine."

He snapped his fingers. A serving girl appeared, silently refilling his glass. Seline eyed her as she approached; judging by Tamrin's perpetual smirk and the way his eyes followed her every move, he was familiar with her. Disgusting man, Seline thought. From the girl's anxious movements, Seline doubted that she was secretly employed by Tamrin's people, but you could never be too careful.

Seline didn't trust anyone in this cantina – it was one of Tamrin's favourites. Her visits with the corrupt Imperial always stank of potential betrayal, but that was what made him such a good informant. He could go either way. As long as she stayed on top of the game, he would come to her and the Empire wouldn't know any better.

Seline sighed and waved a hand at the girl, signalling a refilled glass for her benefit, too. "And to think," she said, observing Tamrin with one eyebrow raised, "that you managed to get so far in the Imperial ranks without having someone demote you purely because of your supreme lack of wit."

Tamrin grinned. "But didn't you know, Seline? Imperials wouldn't recognize wit if it staged a protest in front of the Imperial Palace in bright colours."

"Oh, ha ha." She picked up her glass and sipped from it. Despite having no redeeming factors, Tamrin did have a good taste in ale.

"Is that the sound of enjoyment I hear?"

Seline set her glass down and folded her arms. "I do not find you amusing in any way," she said flatly. And wipe that smirk off your face, she added silently. She leaned forwards over the table, her chin resting on her interlocked fingers. "Tamrin, I'm bored."

"Isn't it such an excruciatingly painful condition?" he said loftily, focusing on swishing his drink around his glass.

"I have half a mind to give its cause an excruciatingly painful remedy."

"And here I thought my witticisms were particularly captivating." He was entirely engrossed in seeing how much he could swish his drink before it flew out of his glass.

Seline snorted – half in response to his words, half in response to his actions. "A Hutt has more wit than you, coward." She leaned back and took another drink.

"Ouch." Tamrin looked up from his experiment, feigning a pained expression. "Your words wound me!"

Seline's eyes narrowed. "If you don't start cutting it right now, I'll give you a proper wound – and it won't be nearly as pleasant as my words."

"Charming." Tamrin swished his glass. "Sometimes I don't know why I bother dealing with you lovely people."

"You're a cowardly bureaucrat who hides behind the strength of better people while trying to feed off the best of both worlds," Seline said with a straight face. "It's rather captivating."

Tamrin chuckled. "That's right. Me, the slimy traitorous Imperial bureaucrat. Why don't you go ahead and call me a git while you're at it? It'll make me feel better. It's been ages since I've had a good nickname and, honestly, cowardly-fake-Imp-traitor-bureaucrat is a bit of a mouthful."

"Very well. Tamrin, you're a git."

"Thank you."

He plunked down his glass in the middle of the table and stretched his hands over his head. "So, Seline, how about them negotiations? What will it be this time? Everything comes with a price around here – including your life."

Seline smirked. It was entirely impossible for this man to deliver lines like that with an ounce of threat. Everything was a joke to him, even when he was being completely serious.

But joke or not, he always did carry out his word, and that was what made Tamrin dangerous. Because of his attitude, people underestimated him.

"Oh, trust me, Tamrin," Seline said, "I am well aware of that. You'd just as soon pack me off to the Empire as hand over the information I want."

"Exactly," Tamrin said cheerfully, scratching at the collar of his uniform. "I'm so glad we understand each other. Now, to business!" He raised his glass in a toast.

Seline rolled her eyes. "Please. Whatever passes for humour around here is suffocating."

"Spoilsport." Tamrin took a drink. "Did you find the girl?"

"Yes."

"Did you bring her here?"

Seline casually ran her fingers through her wiry black hair. "You know, Tamrin, I'm not much of a bounty hunter—"

"Ah, no." He raised a finger. "I really like you, Seline, and it would be a shame to have to kill you, but if you didn't bring the girl—"

"I only implied that I didn't bring her. I didn't say she wasn't here."

Tamrin stared at her, his eyes shifting to and fro. He started to chuckle. "Interesting." He banged a hand down on the table, his chuckles turning into outright laughter.

Seline shrugged. "I told you, I'm not a bounty hunter. I don't play by all of your associates' rules. Did you expect me to drag her here in binders?"

Tamrin cocked his head. "You know, Seline, I've kind of stopped trying to expect what you will do. But whatever hidden plan you've got stuck up your sleeve, you know it's not going to work. The girl's the price you have to pay here. Hand her over, or I'm not trading – oh, and you'll be dead."

Seline made a face. "Some friend you are."

"I'm just being honest." Tamrin shrugged. "Honesty's what friends do, right?"

"Like I said – some friend."

"Well, you know the currency I deal in," Tamrin said, leaning back in his seat and putting his over-polished black boots up on the table. "No pay, no gain."

"True, but it also depends on how far I'm willing to sink," Seline said, picking up her glass again. She didn't drink, but her fingers tightened around it. She felt more comfortable having it at hand "Technically speaking, you're getting me to traffic in people, which, in other terms, is slavery. Slavery's a rather despicable trade, don't you think? It's rather Hutt-like to, now that I'm thinking about it—"

"Oi!" Tamrin pressed a hand to his chest. "That hurts, Sel! Really!"

Seline rolled her eyes. Overdramatic fool.

She smirked. "Care to come up with a defence for that one?"

"No slaves," Tamrin said. "The girl's not a slave and it's all standard business. She has something of a bounty on her head, and I plan to collect – with your help, of course. If you really want to get down to the gritty little details, the girl has been a thorn in my employer's side for some time now. Ever since that blow-up on Falleen, the Empire keeps running into delightful, pretty green people who seem to have nothing better to do with their time than – er – try to kill every official they come across."

He snatched up his drink and took quite a large gulp, his eyes scanning the cantina. Seline followed his gaze, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. A few other patrons were scattered here and there, barely visible at their tables due to the low light. Most sat in groups of two or more, slumped in their chairs, but there was one lonely person sitting with a raised hood, brooding over a half-empty drink. The rest of the cantina's occupants were black-clothed, nondescript men and women – Tamrin's guards and officials, people paid so well that they were the only ones allowed to know that their Imperial boss had dealings with Rebel agents on occasion. They were disguised as cantina patrons, and would only act if Tamrin called for them.

"It's rather unsettling, I hear," Tamrin continued, content that his scan had turned up nothing unusual. He lowered his feet off the table. "This girl's one of the worst. One moment she's got you all charmed and you're leaving the club hand-in-hand – and the next she's got a knife stuck in your throat and she's letting you bleed all over the ground until the authorities can come and collect you. That's what you call a nasty date if you ask me."

"Hmm." Seline eyed him over the top of her glass. "Remind me not to try it, then."

Tamrin chuckled. "Right, I will. Bu you can see why the Empire would be pretty glad to see her gone. She's not important enough to warrant a huge bounty – unlike certain friends of yours, I'm sure – but she has plenty of Imps around Coruscant worried enough that they have no form of a social life. Too worried she's going to appear out of nowhere and magic them to their deaths with her pheromones. They would be mighty fond of the person who brought her in dead." A hand tapped out a jaunty little beat on the tabletop. "Not to mention that she's supposed to be able to break into anywhere undetected, so if the Rebellion somehow manages to pick her up—"

"—she'd be a worthwhile agent." Seline grinned. "Thanks, Tamrin, what a wonderful idea you've given me."

He snorted. "As if. I knew you'd be interested in her as soon as I asked for her as payment." He fixed Seline with a lurid grin. "But I'm not going to let you run away with her; that's what makes this whole deal so interesting, right?"

Seline blew out a puff of air. "Some negotiations, eh?"

"Exactly," Tamrin said. "All you have to decide is whether my information is more worthwhile than the girl. Oh, and while you're at it, your life is also on the line because, after all, if you refuse, the only other option is me killing you. So, since I'd hate to have the death of such a dear Rebel friend on my conscience, you might as well save me the trouble of drawing my blaster and just hand her over right now. She's only payment. With her behaviour, the Rebellion would be better off without her. She'd probably only get herself killed within the first five minutes of her first mission."

Seline's eyes narrowed. "You're sick, Tamrin."

"Or maybe ten minutes." Tamrin leaned across the table. "Want to bet?"

Seline placed her free hand on his shoulder and shoved him back. "That's a very unappetizing offer, Tamrin."

He leaned back in his seat and spread his hands. "I am who I am," he said unapologetically.

Seline pursed her lips. "But I think we may be able to work something out."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what is that?"

"We're going to take a third option," a new voice said.

A very tall young woman – a former occupant of a booth across the cantina – had glided across the room. She was cloaked, and she had left her hood up so it was difficult to see her face. Somewhat appropriate to her character – in Seline's opinion – she wore knee-high boots with heels so thin and pointed, they resembled daggers. It was the only truly distinguishing thing about her, aside from the cloak.

The woman slid into the booth, brushing up against Tamrin.

Out of the corner of her eye, Seline could see the nearest of Tamrin's guards stir in his seat, but the traitorous Imperial waved them away with one hand.

Seline smirked.

The guards couldn't see the dagger thrust into against Tamrin's side, discouraging him from any hasty actions.

"Tamrin, I'd like you to meet Nyixa," Seline said, "the girl in question. So, now that I've delivered her to you, I would like everything an informant such of yourself can give me. If not, I'll just have Nyixa here stab you and we can go on our merry way back to the Alliance, laughing about what an idiot you are."

"Okay," Tamrin said, glancing at the knife-happy girl trying to steal his seat. "I'm not sure what—"

"Oh, shut up for a minute and actually use that brain of yours," Seline snapped. "If you thought for one moment that I was going to hand Nyixa over to you in exchange for information, you thought wrong. She's too valuable to give up so easily. Naturally, I thought of a different way around it."

Tamrin blinked. "Which was?"

"Oh, Tamrin, Tamrin." Seline smirked and leaned forwards slightly. "If you think that you'll be getting out of this alive without giving me what I want, you're mistaken."

"I could say the same for –"

"Hey!" Seline held up a hand. "No raised voices. Those bodyguards of yours don't need to know the details."

Tamrin glared. "All right, all right. I'll try to behave myself, your bloody Highness."

"Thank you." Seline settled back in her seat. "You are such a dear."

"And you can kiss my—"

"Oh, shut up," Nyixa said. "Really, your babbling is quite unimaginative. I was listening to your entire conversation from over there and I don't need to hear anything else your lack of wit can conjure up. I don't take any particular pleasure holding this knife to your side for extended periods of time, Tamrin, either, because frankly… you smell."

Tamrin rolled his eyes. "Sweetheart, as if that's the worse thing I could do to you—ow!"

Nyixa moved ever so slightly; Seline could see that she had pricked him very gently as a reminder that she was the one who had a dagger ready to plunge into him.

"You didn't have to do that," Tamrin snapped.

Nyixa shrugged. "Just a precaution. You were moving around a little too much for my taste. And really, part of that was for the stink. Really… you reek. Ugh."

Tamrin rounded on Seline. "Are you sure you can stand working with her?"

"Hmm…" Seline smiled silkily. "I think so. She might be a little hot-headed for your taste, but I think she's doing wonders. This is proving to be quite the comedy, Tamrin. Thank you for gifting me some rather amusing entertainment tonight."

"And I thought I was the sick one," Tamrin grumbled.

"I never said I was better than you."

"Point taken. You're worse."

"Whose standards are we going by?"

"I have no idea, I've lost track."

"If you two are finished," Nyixa interrupted.

"Done, Nyx," Seline said, taking a moment to enjoy Nyixa's reaction. She could have sworn her companion was glowering at her from under her hood. Ever since she had met her, Seline knew that Nyixa didn't take nicknames lightly. Especially "Nyx." "All finished," she concluded. "That was fun, wasn't it, Tamrin?"

"Hilarious," he said. "You know what would make it even more fun?"

Seline twirled a lock of frizzy hair around a finger. "Do tell, I'm oh-so-curious."

"How in the blazes are you going to get yourselves out of this mess? Even if your dagger-happy girl here ends up stabbing me, my men are going to—"

"But they're not," Seline said. "I'm going to walk out of here with those access codes I wanted you to give me. That was the information we agreed on, remember? And there is nothing you are going to do about it, other than watch us leave."

Tamrin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You know, Sel, I could call them over right now—"

"And that wouldn't end up very well for you, now would it?" Seline interrupted. "Because Nyx here will kill you. We won't get the codes – most likely – but at least I'll have the satisfaction that one more greasy-haired Imperial git won't be looking over my shoulder. You're one informant on a list of many, Tamrin – you're not that special. I don't care if Nyx kills you."

"And I don't care if my bodyguards kill you."

"But you do care if Nyx kills you, which, frankly, will be the first thing to happy. So don't call them." Seline drummed her fingers on the table. "I know you, Tamrin. You like your life. Life is good, especially with the special benefits you manage to scrounge out of both sides of this bloody civil war. You'd rather stay alive and give me the access codes you've got hidden in your pocket."

Tamrin glared at her. He opened his mouth and was about to answer when Nyixa jabbed him again with the dagger and a predictable "Ow!" flew out instead of a retort. Tamrin cursed, loudly enough to draw the attention of his guards, but he waved frantically at them to leave him alone.

Seline couldn't help smirking. The indecisive fool. He could have had them killed in a heartbeat (she could tell those guards were just itching to nab her), but she knew he wouldn't. Tamrin, for whatever reasons, liked her too much to actually give the order. He would think about it, certainly, but she doubted the words would ever cross his lips – especially with one of Nyixa's daggers poking his side.

"Gods, woman!" he spat. "Watch what you're doing!"

"Oh, I most definitely meant that," Nyixa said casually. "What do you think, Seline? Did I mean to do that?"

"I think you did."

"Me, too."

Tamrin looked like he was on the verge of throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. Of course, he refrained from doing so, because Nyixa would probably take that as a cue to gut him. "This is the most irritating thing you've ever done to me, Sel."

She pouted at him mockingly. "Oh dear. I am so sorry, Tamrin. It's a good thing we never considered becoming a couple."

He made a foul expression and feigned retching. "For the record, I'd never consider it. Really. Maybe in a five second daydream, but never really."

"Good, because you are utterly disgusting."

"I learned that from you."

"Well, aren't you two quite the pair," Nyixa murmured.

Seline smirked; Tamrin retched.

"Okay, Tamrin," Seline said, "access codes, please."

"Let me think about it," he said, banging his head on the table. "Death might be preferable to the embarrassment I'm going to suffer for eternity."

"Aww, embarrassment isn't that bad," Seline said, poking him in the forehead with a finger.

"I can easily provide an answer to your death request," Nyixa added.

Tamrin made a face and sat up. "Okay, you win. Maybe. No, no, no!" He shot an angry look at the hooded Falleen. "Don't stab me yet. Just back off until Sel says you can stab me. Great Gods, no wonder there's a price on your head." He exhaled sharply, his frustration and ire colouring his cheeks. "You want the access codes?"

"Yep."

"To House Vandron?"

"You know you'll die if you sneak in there."

"Yep. What a shame, eh?"

"There are better places to keep surveillance than House Vandron, you sneak."

"Care to list some, Imperial? And who said I was the one doing the sneaking?"

Tamrin rolled his eyes. "You really are insufferable, Sel."

"I do my best."

Nyixa exhaled sharply. "Codes, please, Tamrin? I don't really feel like asking again, so if you would be so kind—"

He groaned. "Damn it. Fine. You know, for all the stuff I do for the Empire, I really should just be a Rebel."

Seline raised an eyebrow. "You're neither. And stars, don't come over to my side, Tamrin, I don't think I could stand the stench."

"Not funny, Sel."

Instead of reaching into a hidden pocket concealed within his uniform – as Seline had expected – Tamrin instead picked up his glass. He drained it of the last drops of ale, flipped it over and whacked the bottom. A small compartment popped up, revealing a datachip. He tossed it in the air; Seline caught it between her fingers.

"Thanks," she said, turning it over. "Just what I was looking for. Datachips are my best friends."

Tamrin grumbled. "Can you please get rid of that knife now, girl?" he said.

Nyixa turned her hooded head towards him. Seline had the distinct feeling that she was glaring at him in the way only an angry, vengeance-seeking, kill-all-Imperials-thinking Falleen was capable of.

"No," she said.

"Sel!" Tamrin complained.

Seline stood up and shrugged, pocketing the precious datachip. "Sorry, Tamrin. She's a little jumpy right now. I might be able to persuade her to let you go, considering that if you hadn't sent me after her, she wouldn't be working for the Alliance. What do you think, Nyx? Do you really want to kill the smarmy grease ball?"

"He's an Imperial."

"Yes…"

"Empire-loving thug," Nyixa spat. She paused for a moment and then stood up, her dagger flashing briefly as she put it away under her cloak. "But he gave us access codes," she said lightly. "I kind of like him."

Seline smiled. She turned on a heel and walked across the cantina, heading for the exit. Nyixa followed, her high-heeled boots clacking on the floor.

I really need to get her to do something about those, Seline thought, grimacing. Nyixa's favourite footwear was both so impractical and ridiculous (or at least they would be if anyone but Nyixa wore them) that they were starting to get on Seline's nerves.

Suddenly, Seline froze.

An enraged cry echoed through the cantina. Seline spun around just in time to see Tamrin's blaster aimed at her head. She threw herself to the ground, rolled and sprang back to her feet, drawing her own weapon.

But Tamrin's men were already ready for her.

Seline swore. She should have brought Tamrin with her; of course he would act out as soon as her back was turned!

Her eyes flickered around the cantina, trying to see a way out. The exit was only a few paces behind her, but did she have time to run or would she have to take out a few of Tamrin's men before she got a break-?

"Hey! Tamrin!"

Seline blinked, momentarily confused as the swirling of a black material hit her in the face. She caught the heavy fabric and batted it away, wishing that Nyixa had chosen someone else to thrown her cloak at.

Nyixa was not a fan of blasters, but she was deadly with knives. Her cloak only hampered her movements. In a few quick seconds, before Seline or any of Tamrin's black-garbed companions had noticed what was happening, Nyixa had drawn two of her favourite weapons and had tackled Tamrin, dragging him out of the booth and across the cantina floor, a blur of green and black. Her long dark hair, loosened from its ties, fanned out around her as she spun through the room, struggling with her opponent. One of the blades sliced his cheek, drawing blood.

Tamrin was waving desperately at his bodyguards, trying to get them to shoot his attacker. But Nyixa had him in a headlock and the pressure of her arm on his throat was making it difficult for him to speak clearly to issue orders. Nyixa backed away with her hostage, dragging him towards the exit. She caught up with Seline and hurled Tamrin away. He spiralled across the floor and collapsed, coughing and wheezing, a stream of epithets issuing from his mouth as he wiped away the blood on his face.

Seline didn't bother to stop and watch. She grabbed Nyixa by the arm and quickly fled towards the doors.

"SELINE!" Tamrin yelled at her retreating back. "YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"I don't really want to!" she shouted. She glanced over her shoulder and dashed to the right as a blaster bolt flew by her shoulder.

"I swear," Tamrin bellowed, bleeding all over the floor, "if you keep on like this, some day you're going to catch the eye of the higher-ups – and I really want to be around to see it!"

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I go to Coruscant!" Seline called. She spun around, gave Tamrin a quirky salute, and disappeared through the exit after Nyixa's fleeing form, the sound of blaster fire ringing in her ears.

Their speeder was waiting outside and they were away before they could be followed.

"That wasn't quite as exciting as I thought it would be," Nyixa said, her tone a little disappointed.

Seline was flying; she knew the routes better than her companion. Nyixa's comment caused her to break into laughter and momentarily fly into the wrong lane. Other speeders screeched at her and she quickly corrected their flight path.

"Exciting?" she said. "Tamrin's a mouthful. Whatever he is, he's not really all that exciting." She paused. "Did I promise you something exciting?"

"I meant that the prize wasn't all that exciting, considering the amount of preparation we did," Nyixa said. "All this for a datachip? It hardly seemed worthwhile."

Seline grinned. "You'd be surprised how worthwhile datachips are. Especially if you're a spy… Get used to it, Nyx. Datachips are golden in our world."

Nyixa was in the process of winding her long hair into a knot on the top of her head. Her fingers slipped and her hair came tumbling down. "Don't call me 'Nyx'!" she flared.

Seline laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"It's a good nickname!"

"No, it's not! You're crazy, Seline!"

"Oh, trust me," she said, "I lost my sanity a long time ago."

Nyixa pressed her hands into her forehead. "I think my other job was better than this one."

"Aw, come on, I'm not that bad. You did terrific today."

She smiled, albeit a bit timidly. "Thanks, I guess."

"I think we did well with Tamrin," Seline continued. "Some negotiation required, but all in all, not too badly done."

Nyixa's eyes narrowed. "What counts as negotiation? The fight or the banter?"

"Isn't banter fighting?"

"Sure."

"So, just the fight."

Nyixa shook her head. "You're impossible, Sel."

Seline grinned. "See? Now you're doing it! Nicknames are sweet."

Nyixa rolled her eyes, but she began to laugh.

They travelled onwards, the sky slowly darkening as night fell over the city.

"Nyx?"

"What?"

"Have you ever considered dyeing your hair red? It would look awesome with your skin tone."

"Since when did you turn into a stylist?"

"It's one of my many hidden talents."

"Seline, you're crazy."

"You've already told me that."

"Well, get used to it, because I think it'll become mandatory to say at least once every hour as long as I'm working with you."

Seline grinned.

Yes, everything had turned out well, indeed.

fin