Author's Note: Basically, this is point A on Reev and Tau'seret's storyline, also known as the story of how they met.

Some Nights A Gambler Always Wins

Chapter Ten

Reev Aurell flips the switch on his ship's controls and waits as the engines power up. He leans back in the captain's chair and scratches his goatee. His fingers drum against the controls, and as he looks out through the three wide windows facing the interior of the private hangar bay, he sighs. He doesn't know what it is, a lack of judgment or a sudden burst of imagination? A hidden blessing or a devil's snare. The decision is clear before him: leave now, go back on her good faith and honor and possibly make a fool's mistake by adding another enemy to the always lengthening list, or take a chance and let the chips fall where they may, for better or worse?

In the end, the Captain stands from his chair after canceling the pre-flight check and heads for the ship's entrance. He opens the main airlock and leans against the frame. In the relative distance he sees the blonde bounty hunter heading towards him with a sack over her shoulder and a grin on her face.

"Y'know, I'll admit I was worried you'd back out on me. That your reputation for running would prove true," Tau'seret Rozenhart says as she approaches him.

"I'm not a complete bastard."

"I don't think bastard is the right term. Scoundrel, maybe. Scoundrels have some redeeming qualities." She steps forward and places her gloved palm on the hull of his freighter. "What's her name?"

"Puffcake."

"Puffcake?" She raises a brow. "You're kidding right."

"I tell a lot of lies but this ain't one of them."

"So Captain Reev Aurell, thief and pirate, has a ship named Puffcake."

"What were you expecting? Something over-exaggerated and terrifying? The Mighty Flying Rancor? I really don't see what's the big deal."

"Now the Mighty Flying Rancor sounds like a circus ship. I think if you were going for the cute, ridiculous name, I would have gone for maybe The Almighty Weenie, or something."

"When you get a ship, you can christen it with whatever name you please." Reev gestures to the insides of his ship. "Now, if you've made your decision, I've got a run to make on a shipment of guns. We'll work on a contract inside, if that's your thing. Otherwise, welcome aboard, Tau'seret."

"Taus is fine."

The Captain nods and smiles briefly. They head inside and for the first of many times to come, Tau'seret stands beside him at the helm as he powers up the Puffcake.

"Hope you've got your flyin' legs, cause this girl's a puffcake that soars."

Four hours earlier…

"I would be mindful of what exactly you're reachin' for there, Captain."

Reev glances sideways and sighs. He raises his hands above his head.

"Slowly turn around, keep your hands where I can see them."

"Who's gone and sent for me this time, huh?" He asks as he turns and sees an armor clad figure pointing a blaster's barrel between his eyes.

"Bareesh the Hutt sends his regards."

"Ah, Bareesh this time is it? Better than Girradda. Girradda's mercs usually shoot first, ask things kindly later."

"So I've heard. You've got a reputation for running, Captain."

"Running, me? No, of course not. That's what they say about me? What happened to Scourge of the Hutts?"

"It turns out you're a two-faced coward who steals from his employers. That's rather bad form. The Hutt Cartel decided that Scourge of the Hutts is much too intimidatin' for a thief who amounts to bein' a yellow bellied gizka."

"Such a shame, I rather did like Scourge of the Hutts. I'd even gone and made business cards."

"Well I'm glad you think this is a game and all, but I'd be mighty concerned about the blaster pressin' up into your forehead."

"It's a nice forehead though ain't it? Be a damn shame if there were a hole in it."

The bounty hunter's head tilts and he hears a low laugh. Afterward, the hunter reaches up and removes the helmet to reveal short, matted blonde hair, green eyes, and a smirk.

"I've been hunting you down for a few days, Captain. Been tracking you throughout the Industrial Sector. You're quick. You don't mind gettin' your hands dirty, and you sure as hell do a lot of runnin'. Must be three or four bounties on your head at this moment."

"What's my estimated value at now, hm?"

"A couple hundred thousand credits."

Reev feigns a pout. "That low?"

"What can I say? Hutts are cheap."

"I'm worth at least a few million credits. You shouldn't have even taken this job. Your should at least be gettin' hazard pay of a million. Aren't your legs tired in that heavy armor? If you've really been huntin' me down for as long as you say, well stars, I think I'd've given up long before now."

"Well," she leans forward and presses the barrel deeper. She reaches into the small pouch at her belt and pulls out a pair of hand-cuffs. "It's a good thing you're not a mercenary then, huh?" She shoves the hand-cuffs into his hands. "Put those on. You're Force-inhibiting, so don't try anything."

"I ain't runnin', you can quit waving your gun in my face."

She snorts. "I didn't show up on Nar Shaddaa yesterday. Now go on, put them on. Pirates like you always have self-preservation in your forefront. Well, if you want to live, you'll do it. The bounty's dead or alive, and I'm plenty happy with dead."

"Alright, alright. Just chill out for a sec, alright?"

Reev puts on the handcuffs without so much as another spoken complaint. Once done, he raises his hands, wiggles his fingers, and grins. "There, happy now? Can we lower the gun, huh?"

The bounty hunter hesitates but concedes and holsters her blaster. She bends down to pick up her discarded help, then grabs Reev by his arm, and tugs him along. "I'd have to say your reputation for running precedes you Captain, but I'd say the myth is more exciting than the truth."

"Isn't it always?"

"Look, isn't there a way we can, I don't know, settle this businessman to businesswoman, I mean, c'mon, isn't there something I can do? Credits? You mercs like credits, don't you?"

"And now the fight or flight's really kickin' in, ain't it? Only you're not much of a fighter, more of a weasel, right?"

"You may compare me to any animal you please, but know that when it comes to the preservation of my life I will practically bargain with my own organs if it means I'll live."

She snorts and shakes her head. "That's almost too humorous to actually be pathetic."

"C'mon, let's make a deal," Reev starts to resist by going limp and forcing her to drag him along. "I'm a great deal maker, trust me."

"I don't think I'd give ya even a grain of trust." She sighs and stops walking, allowing him to reposition himself into an erect position.

"Fair enough, I wouldn't either."

"I'm bound by somethin' bigger than your tiny little weasel brain might even be able to comprehend."

"I read a few books in my time, mostly ones with pictures, but try me."

"Honor."

"Oh, yikes, d'ya have a dictionary on hand?" His grin grows wider. "Never heard of that word before. Is it Huttese?"

She tugs at his cuffs and he winces. "A few people in this galaxy still care for it."

"A mercenary who's working for Hutts who cares about honor. Now there's a story there. Why don't we talk about it a bit over drinks? Some one on one time. You know?" He raises a hand partially, and she raises a brow. "I know, I know. I'm a two-face rat, and you're probably wonderin' if I'm schemin'. Truth is, I am, but like I said, we're business folk, so let's do business, alright?"

"You've got thirty seconds."

"I only need half that." He clears his throat. "What d'ya say you and me, I don't know, head on down to the Slippery Slopes, get a few drinks, doesn't need to be alcoholic, we chat for a bit, we laugh for a bit," he leans over and murmurs with a smirk, "I'll even let you keep the cuffs on, huh, huh? It's kind of kinky!"

"Are you this much of a clown with your own clients? Or just in the face of oncoming death?"

"What's life without a little humor." He shrugs. "Give a man his last meal with some company. Do you have a time limit on your hunt? No. Do you have to worry about competition? Nope! All one hundred and fifty pounds of this ridiculously skinny, lanky, tall," he pauses and perks up his eyebrows above his goggles, "dashing," his toothy grin spreads to his ears, "almighty Scourge of the Hutts will be yours till the clock strikes midnight. And if we've had a good time, maybe you'll reconsider? Maybe. If I'm terribly horrible company you shoot me dead and we're done with it. How's that for an offer?"

The bounty hunter hesitates, narrows her brows as she studies him, but appears to be seriously considering his offer. She runs a hand through her hair and shrugs. "Okay. Fine. One condition."

"Name it."

"If I just so happen to enjoy your company, and I decide to let you go, if, I decide to do so, I want passage on your ship. No ifs, ands, or buts. You let me travel with you." She pauses. "For an indefinite amount of time. I want that clear."

Now Reev's the one hesitating, and he stands up straighter. He's assessed her well enough to know that yes, it's true, she's very bound to her own sense of honor and duty—enough to even consider breaking her previous contract in order to take his offer and propose an amendment to it. There's something she wants that's bigger than traveling with him. In the end, it's his only chance at surviving a little while longer. After midnight, he can do what he does best, run.