He had known there would be consequences to ditching the bulbous casino boss and his numerous lackeys. Still the small tracking device he had found later that day seemed a touch excessive. If the casino boss thought he was getting cold feet there were other more off hand ways of reeling him in.

DJ had chafed at the discovery but hadn't removed the tracker until now. He had kept it rattling around in his pocket while he roamed a few days to throw them off the scent. He lost sleep in some of the more unsavory pockets of nightlife on Canto and alternatively caught sleep on one of the numerous public benches during the day. It was uncomfortable and irritating but he refused to give them the satisfaction of sniffing out his home base. A good slicer had to keep a few secrets after all.

Now, however, now he was sick of roughing it. He wanted a shave and a fresh shirt. He also wanted to do his work in peace which meant it was time to ditch the tracker.

The key to seamlessly ditching a tracker was to cleanly transfer the device onto someone else, preferably someone that looked like they would wander quite a bit and you wanted to do it someplace crowded but not so obvious that the people tracking you started to suspect you were there to make the switch.

That's why he was standing here, at the end of Canto Bight's main canal crossing. The massive cobblestone bridge was teaming with people of all shapes and sizes. The main crossing connected two major sections of the town. Everyone had to cross the bridge at some point living in Canto so DJ was sure no one monitoring his device would blink an eye.

DJ began a lazy shuffle across the causeway. As he bumbled past tourists and merchants he scanned the crowd looking for the perfect mark. He mentally discarded a old merchant man, too predictable with his set route and slid past a gaggle of obnoxiously loud female tourists.

He was about halfway across when he spotted her from behind. She was a rare one alright. Every once in a second blue moon you came across a tourist that wasn't there to gamble. DJ could tell without even seeing her face. Her dark homespun cargo pants and the light grey thermal vest were enough of a giveaway. She wasn't dressed to be seen like the women behind him.

He nodded to himself. She would work fine. Tourists like her liked to wander. They rarely holed themselves up in the casinos like the rest. She'd wander around and take in the sights, and all the while, it would look like the tracker had never changed hands.

DJ readied himself and began making his way towards the girl. He slipped the tracker out of his pocket and let it rest casually in his hand. He took his time, pretending to eye the scenery or a trinket at a stall, until he was nearly upon her. He stumbled past her, letting his shoulder knock lazily into her's as his hand cleanly slipped the small device into her pocket. She let out an angry huff. She hadn't noticed the exchange.

"Hey!" She shouted adding a spiteful accent to the address, "Watch where you're going!"

DJ froze solid. He knew that voice. He reeled as the girl roughly grabbed him by the collar and spun him around. Right there in front of him, ponytail nowhere to be seen, was the Haysain girl from his memories. Her hair tumbled around her face in spirited fluffs of black as she shook him in her grip. Her sharp almond eyes widened in recognition and dismay. She was beautiful-and alive.

"You!"

Her name came out in a choke as his collar tightened around his throat. "Rose-"

That was all he got out before he saw stars and his breath caught in his throat. His eyelids fluttered in confusion until he glanced down and discovered that the girl's knee had connected with his groin. A sharp indescribable searing sensation followed instantly after and he doubled over in pain. He didn't hear what the girl shouted at him next. Her face told him that was probably for the best.

That was when her fist connected with his jaw. After the right hook, he saw nothing.

When he came to moments later both his tracker and the dream girl were gone. The old merchant man stood over him eyeing him curiously. DJ groaned and took the hand the old man offered him.

"Women eh?" The old man cackled knowingly pulling him to his feet. All he could do was nod in agreement. The pain made the already difficult task of forming words correctly even more of an effort. An effort he couldn't concentrate on now when it took all of his willpower for his eyes not to water.

It was funny, she had been just as angry in his dreams but never as violent. That was almost as much of a surprise as finding her alive.

She was alive and here in his town, on his planet- with his tracker. DJ nodded his head in thanks to the merchant and continued across the bridge. As he gingerly walked his mind quickly outran his legs.

Rose was the worst person he could have placed the tracker on. He didn't know her well enough to predict her movements with the precision he preferred but knowing she was Resistance was headache inducing enough. Canto Bight was a neutral port on an uncaring planet but that didn't mean everyone who lived there was. His own particular problems, the ones who currently distrusted him enough to track him, preferred the First Order. Having the tracker run rampant through the Resistance sympathetic districts was the last thing he needed. They'd scoop her up in a heart beat and throw her in a city cell on some made up charge until she told them whatever they wanted to hear. He'd have to get her out before it came to that. He had too much riding on this last job to let the little spitfire thrash around and burn it all to ash. That and even considering the lump forming on his jaw, he was almost fond of the girl in his own way. Seeing her alive had been surprising-in a good way. He wouldn't admit it but she, the soldier and the little droid, had been the closest he had ever come to actual friends. Of course he had self sabotaged it all into smithereens, literally, but the twinge of curiosity was still there. She was interesting.

Reaching the end of the causeway he glanced down at himself. The grime on his dark spun shirt stared rudely back at him. Going after the rebel girl would be a headache but sometimes you had to look on the bright side. Even with a rabid rebel to rescue he still had time to go change. He could finally have that fresh shirt. DJ chuckled softly to himself and quickened his pace. If he hurried he could probably manage a shave too.