Taking A Gamble
Summary: Lando meet Boba; he has a proposition for you.
He was being watched and had been for a few days now. Followed as well, and wasn't that unnerving since Lando had only just realized this half an hour ago. He usually better than that, not as good as some (but those some were smugglers/grifters/conpersons who had been at it for years longer and they grudgingly admitted the twenty-one year old man was good) which meant this was a professional and that meant Lando had attracted the attention on someone who might not have his best interests at heart. So as he finished the hand of sabacc he casually scanned the on-lookers and, yes, his stalker was still there - dull green armor and a distinct helmet. But the places Lando had been in recently that wasn't unusual garb, but today, here, in Hozzi's Restaway, where the mix of casual patrons skewed to a higher income, it stood out a little. It had been enough to make Lando realize that he had been seeing that same armor everywhere, but he hadn't really noticed it.
So he yawned and stretched and made a big deal of declining another hand, before he announced he was calling it a night. There were several irritated barks, but he hadn't won big enough to get the regular gamblers riled.
He wandered out, people watched a bit and then hopped a public transport, and began a complicated route towards his current quarters. Once he was certain he had his stalker following him, oh he didn't see him but he was there, Lando used the cover of the main transport hub to lose them.
It was going to be long and wild round-about way to a safe house. But worth it to lose the green armor.
Lando let out a deep sigh of relief when the door slid shut behind him. Always have more than one bolt hole. He had learned that the hard way. This wasn't as nice as his other two, but it was the one hidden most deeply; there was no way he had been followed here. He waved his hand toward the light sensor and lost the self-congratulatory feelings.
The green armor was sitting on the shabby couch with helmet tilted as if wondering: what took you so long?
Lando hadn't felt angry in quite some time, anger didn't help you when you trying to hoodwink someone and it could make you sloppy. Still anger boiled up and he slammed his hand back against the wall.
"All right, who are you?! What do you want?!" he demanded.
"You're Lando Calrissian," the statement was so casual, it almost drew attention away from the voice asking. The voice was somewhat modulated, but Lando was almost certain the armor held a human, or a near human from the sound of it, "I have proposition for you."
Lando folded his arms in front of him and stared into the dark "T" shape of the helmet.
"It will be profitable for you."
He wasn't going to say anything until he had a name.
"Two thousand credits for just the attempt, five thousand more if you're successful."
That was tempting, but without knowing what 'it' was he still wasn't budging and Lando still wanted a name.
"And if I'm successful, another eighty thousand or so credits."
That startled him enough that his arms dropped and he stepped forward before he realized it. He quickly crossed his arms again, but his interest was definitely piqued.
"All right, I'll listen to your proposition, but I still need a name," Lando said grudgingly.
The helmet tilted again, considering.
"I am Boba Fett."
Lando sucked in his breath, he had heard of Boba Fett, a bounty hunter who mostly worked on the Outer Rim, but who was undeniably on the rise. There were rumors he was related to the late great Jango Fett, but those were unsubstantiated. Lando was reasonably certain he didn't have any bounties on his head, but that was never a sure thing.
"Have you heard of the Starlight Bar and Grill on Coruscant?"
"What gambler hasn't?" Lando replied automatically, although just the mention of the Starlight Bar and Grill was beginning to fit pieces into the puzzle, "the most high-end casino in the entire galaxy."
Technically it was not a casino, Imperial Law forbidding such establishments in the more civilized Core Worlds, and despite the banality of the name it was a well-established and well-appointed restaurant and hotel…where if some of the more powerful and wealthy civilian members of the Imperial government and some of the more powerful member of the Imperial military and their assorted hangers-on occasionally got together to play innocent games of chance, well who would complain about such a harmless event? (Rumor had it that one such game was well into its fifth year and two of the players had married each other within that time period, all while never letting the other see their cards.) The best of the best played there.
"An acquisition has gone to ground there, and finding an alternate means of entry has proven more difficult than I anticipated," Fett sounded childishly irritated. Lando found that strangely appealing.
"And you can't get in the front door wearing that," Lando hid a chuckle, as he sat down across from him in the only other chair in the pokey apartment, "it sounds like you can afford the entry fee, why not just shed the armor?"
Even with the armor, Lando could see the defensive hackles rising and cursed himself. But Fett just said:
"I'd still stand out like a bantha at a banquet, and the besalisks guarding the entrance are choosey regarding the unknowns they let in. But as the bodyguard of a smart, handsome, and smooth-talking up and coming gambler, I'd just be so much window-dressing."
"I can see why you need me if that's how you try to convince people to do what you want," Lando smirked slightly.
"I usually use a blaster," Fett shot back, aiming his as demonstration, "works most of the time too."
Putting up his hands Lando did his best to look contrite, and Fett settled the blaster back down.
"Still, an up and comer like me is more likely to have a beautiful consort on his arm, the better to charm and distract the other players."
"I take back the smart part."
Lando was speechless for a moment, but then laughed aloud.
"You're still going to have shed the armor," he said wiping mirthful tears from his eyes, "you're too obvious in it."
"I might be more obvious without it," Fett groused, but he hesitantly removed his helmet.
"Oh."
The man was dark haired, amber-eyed, good looking, a bit rough around the edges, familiar in a can't quite put a finger on it way. There was a scar tracking from his forehead down over his right eye splitting the eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose and trailed off on his left cheek. The scar was so fresh his skin hadn't had time for the hyperpigmentation to fade back to the man's normal tan. It definitely drew your attention.
How in the seven hells did he not lose his eye? Lando wondered, then slowly started to nod.
"We can work with this," he reached out to gently touch where the scar started on Fett's forehead; the bounty hunter immediately tensed and the blaster tentatively lifted, but all Lando did was lean closer lost in thought, studying Fett's face. There was definite potential there. He leaned back, and Fett relaxed, "I accept your proposition, but you are going to have trust me."
