Fourth installment by Amaryllis Complex. :)

Truce

It was not the most pleasant of places to be, but for someone like Ventress, it was where she conducted most of her business. The cantina was rowdy enough to muffle any and all conversations, and with the rise of the Empire, everyone was only concerned for themselves. No one spared her a second glance as she wove her way through the tables, dark cloak rippling as she sank down and crossed one leg over the other. Leaning back, she locked her attention upon the door and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. Even though he was clad in civilian clothes, the man that strode through the door stood out like a sore thumb, from the crop of black hair on his head to the stiff way that he walked. His gaze was wary as it swept over the occupants of the room, and brown eyes narrowed upon her before he approached.

There were a thousand things that Asajj Ventress had never imagined herself doing. One was being betrayed by her own Master, another being partnering up with Skywalker's little pest of a Padawan — but this trumped it all in spades. Strange times, she knew, bred strange alliances.

Still, even with regards to what was going on in the galaxy at the moment, she could not help but lean back in her chair, one leg thrown over the other as she observed her companion with unconcealed amusement. Her mouth curved, eyes flashing as she took in his appearance. She did not make a habit of learning names of her enemies, and especially not when there were hundreds of faces just like his.

His stood alone, however, if only for the angry scar that stretched down the side of his face, across a pale cybernetic eye. Her own handiwork, and no doubt one of the reasons why the clone stood before her, watching her in unrestrained dislike. It rolled off him in waves, but Ventress could not bring herself to care. Not that she would have anyway, but that was beside the point as she shifted, chin tilting upward.

"Just what would someone like you want with me? Last time I checked, you were one of the Empire's many loyal dogs." Though she could admit that she had changed since being betrayed by her Master, there was still large part of her that took pleasure in working over people that she came across. It did not matter who, enemies and begruding allies alike got the same treatment. And in the case of targets and enemies, provoking anger made it easier to take them down.

"Believe me," the clone hissed through gritted teeth, "if I knew of anyone else who could help me, I would."

"And there isn't," Ventress cut in, "so you're stuck with me." She leaned forward, mouth curving into a predatory smile. "Lucky me."

His expression made it clear that he wanted nothing more than to shoot her, but in civilian clothes, Ventress had the upper hand in the weapon's department. And if push came to shove, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. "If we're going to be allies," she began, reaching forward to shove him into the chair beside hers, "you need stop looking like you'd like to kill me."

He didn't look pleased at being man-handled, the muscles in his jaw taut as he turned away, surveying the chattering occupants before he looked back. "Fine," he bit out, and Ventress' mouth quirked in a momentarily amused smile before it faded and she stood.

"Come on," she beckoned, and moved to leave, turning back towards him to add, "this isn't exactly the place to be talking about our type of deal." Though she had found that the noisiness helped drown out conversations, she didn't want to risk being overheard.

With little choice other than to follow the former assassin, Wolffe stood, glanced at the patrons one last time, and followed.