The woman found a strange doodad hidden in the back of the closet while she cleaned. Maybe it was a gun, maybe it was some sort of personal interface. She couldn't tell. It was triangle shaped, and made odd beeping noises when she tried to open it. Tightly secured and strange, it seemed like something DJ might enjoying investigating. Carrying it with her, she left to find him.

He was lackadaisically sitting with his legs crossed on the office couch. A relaxed expression on his face, his eternally half-closed eyes stared into the cup he held. He looked lost in a daze as he took a sip. His black disheveled hair poked out from under his cap. When she entered the room, his eyes lit up with a lovely shade of hazel.

She walked over and handed him the triangle. "I have another mystery for you."

He looked over it triangle doubtfully. Mistaking her sincerity for teasing, he sarcastically replied, "You brought me a g-g-gift…so thoughtful." Putting his drink down, he tilted his head unsure of what it was supposed to be. To be fair, it did look ridiculous.

"I thought you might know what it is, or enjoy trying to figure out what it is," she explained.

When he looked up at her, he saw she was being serious which made him smile. He threw an arm around her neck, and pulled her down to sit beside him. "What an interesting th-th-thing," he said to himself.

He held the triangle to the light and under his scrutinizing gaze. After a moment, he removed his arm from around the woman and bent down. It didn't seem like he could get his face close enough to the mysterious object as it practically touched his nose. His fingers ran over its edges. Then he frowned, as though it had personally caused offense. It had begun to frustrate him, as his focused face turned to one of irritation.

Eventually he sat back and put the triangle on the table in front of him. "It's hard to f-f-f-focus with you beside me."

"Oh, should I back away?" she asked earnestly. She had practically been hovering over him to watch his attempt at opening the triangle.

He put his hand on her leg, "No-no. I am just d-d-distracted." He lowered his gaze to her thighs. She wondered if DJ had finally begun to lose control of himself around her. Perhaps, they were finally on even footing. Feeling the tension quickly build, she straightened her posture in an appearance to look composed. "You should probably remove that hand," she said, trying to make her voice convey assurance. It hadn't worked. He could always see through her easily.

He grinned and removed his hand. Grabbing his coat, he stood, "The cant-t-tina has the best fights at night, and the sun is setting."

She wasn't sure what he had been trying to tell her until he held out his hand for her to take. "Oh," she blurted. It was a simple gesture, yet she overthought its significance. She blinked, staring at his hand. She couldn't get the word fights out of her head, until she looked up at him. DJ had twinkle in his eye that practically blinded her. He seemed most amused when he could make her just a little uncomfortable. She tried to formulate a sentence as he pulled on a few strands of her hair, but she just kept blinking and mouthing wordlessly at him. She was unable to focus clearly with him just touching her hair. She brushed his hand away so she could think. "I'll have to meet you there. Got some stuff to put away."

"You're not going to leave me are you?" he said with a wink.

She gave him a humorless smile, "I would but I don't know how to pilot a ship."

He chuckled, holding his heart in his hand, "Then, I have n-n-nothing to worry about."

He had started to leave, when he suddenly paused. "It's very cold here at night," he said. He turned back to her, looking perplexed as though he were second guessing himself. With DJ, it was hard to tell at any minute what he might do. He could kiss her, or he might shrug his shoulders and leave with no explanation. After he stared at the ground for a moment, he hesitantly began to take his coat off.

She scoffed when she realized what he was doing. He must have considered the need to be chivalrous to her by giving her his coat. He glanced up at her a few times as though he was waiting for her to stop him. But this act of false sincerity was amusing her. She smiled and as he pretended to be a gentlemen. When he had almost taken his coat off, she held her hand up and said, "No need."

He nodded his head and looked relieved to be keeping his coat on. She liked that DJ was selfish, at least he was honest about it. She knew he needed the coat more than she did. She was trained to withstand the winter's chill. He looked like someone accustomed to sleeping in the cold, and she didn't want to take his coat of tricks from him…not that he would have given it to her.

"I will be-be the one with the best seat, an empt-t-ty chair beside me, and a bottle of wine… waiting," he gave her a promising smile. She looked at him rather skeptically, as she wondered if this was DJ's attempt at being romantic. It was weird when it looked like he cared about something. It made her a little wary for the rest of the night.

After he left, she huffed and crossed her arms. "Fights," she said to herself, "Of course someone who doesn't fight loves to watch them." Were bar fights his idea of a good time? She couldn't decide if she preferred the cheesy wine bottle-toting version of DJ or the one who wanted to watch her get into fights. Either way, she knew she was up for something strange.

She finished cleaning the room, and put the rest of her new clothes in the closet. Looking at them, she wondered what to wear. On one hand, she could choose something practical in case a fight broke out. Then again, she'd been practical her entire life. DJ said there would be wine, so maybe this was a good opportunity to wear the dress she purchased that day.

When she put the dress on, it cut just above her knees. Her breasts made it an inch shorter than she planned, which irritated her. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. The dress fit, but she didn't look like her. He stout posture didn't fit the elegance of someone who wore a dress. She worried that her shoulders were too broad, her arms too muscular, her legs too scarred. Her stomach growled, halting her indecision. "Oh, well," she said to herself. Food was more important.

She'd saved a coat to wear for the chill. When she put it on, she felt weird in that as well. Dresses weren't something she was ever allowed to wear, neither were fancy black coats like the one she had on. After much deliberation, she left the energy sword behind in her closet, and headed out.

The cantina he had referenced was easy to find. She could hear punching from the streets. It was called Hearth's Fire, and as she entered she saw a roaring fire at the center of the place. In the back was seated a long bar, and on the sides, large windows where the seaside could be seen. There were side rooms as well, guarded by rope and some typical large ruffians. Hearth's Fire seemed like an old establishment the city had built itself around. There was a worn-in comfort to the place. She couldn't even make out much if any technology in the joint. This was odd, considering DJ had picked the place out. Besides the lovely design, Hearth's Fire was full of drunks, many of whom were in shouting matches. She scanned the place, but couldn't find DJ.

Focusing on some of the drunken yelling, she had heard his voice faintly in the crowd. DJ was at the bar and surrounded by at least 4 large men, who all had been yelling incoherently at him. She decided not to interfere, and instead decided attempt listening in on conversation. From what she could tell, DJ had stolen something from them and he was playing coy.

"You cheated me out of that card game, you bastard," a man with an eye patch said to DJ.

DJ rubbed his temples, and then his eyes, "You're a sore loser, T-T-Til."

One of the men bent down to DJ's face, and mocked him by imitating his stutter.

DJ replied by exaggerating his stutter, "Low-low-low blow-blow-blow." The woman tried to stifle her laughter as she hid behind Til. She hoped this would prove entertaining.

"I was supposed to win that match," Til yelled at DJ.

"Then, why d-did you lose?" DJ said with a devious look in his eye.

"He lost because you cheated. Til was supposed to win," another cohort piped in.

"You-you keep saying supposed," DJ rubbed his eyes again.

"Well yeah because Til's got a modified deck," one of the men said gesturing to Til. Til hit the man in the chest.

This was the admission DJ had been looking for. With a smug grin he chided, "It was easy t-t-to override really."

Til grabbed DJ by the collar and pulled him out of his seat. The woman realized what was happening, and balled her fist as her temper flared. She kicked the back of Til's legs, causing him to buckle and fall to his knees. Looking up at her with confusion in his eyes, she slapped him hard across the face. The boom rang out in the bar, as the woman felt the eyes of the bar turn to her. DJ casually walked to the bar counter, trying to give her some space.

"Don't you fucking touch him," she warned. Til bewilderly looked her up and down and the woman remembered she was in a dress. Something clicked in his head as he screamed and tried to rise to attack her. But she was too quick and too comfortable fighting to allow an attack from him. The woman kicked him under the chin. His body rag dolled as he fell to the floor. He'd been knocked out instantly. That'd probably be the only easy shot she'd have in this fight.

She turned to DJ, and gestured to her outfit. "You know, this is the first time I've worn a dress."

He pursed his lips in approval, seeming mildly impressed. He hadn't panicked a single second during this conflict. "I d-d-didn't realize you had a dress," he looked at her quizzically, then raised his eyebrows, "I g-g-got the bottle of wine!"

He gave her a cheesy grin, proudly holding the wine bottle in the air like it was a gold medal. She rolled her eyes, and took her coat off, throwing it towards him. Failing at catching it in the air, it fell over his face. The rest of Til's friends attacked her.

He removed the coat from over his eyes. Sitting on the counter of the bar he sighed dreamily, "I love watching her save me-me." The bartender did not look amused.

She punched one of the men in the gut, then kneed him in the face. "I knew that was why you wanted to come here," she said pointing to DJ suddenly. He shrugged his shoulders unbothered by her offense.

"It's nice to feel like the damsel. Do you mind?" he asked her. She kicked a man in DJ's direction angrily. DJ lifted his legs, allowing the man to fly past him. He turned to look back at her, clearly insulted by her attempt to hit him with another man's body. "You did that on purpose!" he said accusing her with a finger.

DJ's aloofness still surprised her. He was shady and strange. Despite the slight annoyance and adrenaline flowing through her, she hoped she would never tire of it. He was also endlessly charming, and she enjoyed every second of it. They locked eyes as he smirked knowingly. It was a revelation which told her he was toying with her. Even amidst a fight, DJ could make her head spin with a single look.

Clearing out her immediate space, she found the room to walk over to him. Grabbing him by the shirt abruptly, she pulled him foward and kissed him. When she backed away, he was beaming. She'd managed to take him by surprise. Then, she poked him on the forehead and got back to the fight. He relaxed, casually snacking on whatever weird snack was sitting on the bar for customers, and cheered her on. With every punch or kick she landed, he threw some of what he'd been eating at the attackers.

The crowd of Hearth's Fire had turned to her fight, joining with DJ as they cheered or booed her. The woman had never been very smart, or very driven, but she was good at fighting. She could take pride in that at least.

She kicked two more into the crowd, and knocked out another. She was losing track of who had been in Til's gang, as it seemed random people were joining to try and take her down. A lady lunged at her with a knife.

"Am I allowed to stab her back?" She yelled to DJ as she avoided the slices of the knife.

"No blood in the bar," the bartender chastised her.

"Fair enough," she replied, kneeing the lady in the stomach and taking the knife from her.

One of the men she'd kicked away appeared suddenly behind her. He picked her up by the waist and hoisted her in the air so that he could drop her onto a table. She elbowed him in the face, and he dropped her. She landed and grabbed the nearest object. Bringing a half-filled bottle across the man's face, it broke and cut her finger. "That was dumb," she said to herself, before then kicking the man away again.

She heard a mixture of groans and cheers as the blood poured from the cut. She put her finger in her mouth, and checked to see what was going on. Somehow, DJ had gotten his hands on a piece of chalk and had started writing on the overhead of the bar. Though he may have initially been cheering, his yells had turned to the growing crowd around him. DJ had started a betting pool revolving and people were placing bets. Lots of them.

A basis of some of the bets had been whether someone would draw her blood. DJ argued with a few of the members of the bar. He insisted that it didn't count because she had cut herself.

"He definitely planned this," she muttered, sucking on her bloody finger.

She looked around, still hunkered down watching to see if anyone else wanted to fight her. Finally, she'd run out of people to punch. The bodies of a few knocked out assholes were beneath her feet. She kicked them away so she could find a place at the bar.

DJ had a small interface pulled up. It looked like he was transferring credits, because his eyes practically had dollar signs in them. She put her head down on the bar to rest and calm her nerves. After dealing and arguing with a lot of the patrons, he sat beside her.

When she sat up, DJ had an odd stone and some ointment in front of him. He took her hands in his and applied the ointment to her knuckles. The pain subsided. Then, he placed the cooling stone over them and pain went away immediately.

"May I see th-that knife?" he asked. She stabbed the knife in the bar. It came within a centimeter of one of his fingers, but he didn't flinch. Instead he smiled, and pulled it from the wood. He cut a piece of his shirt off. Then, he put ointment on her wound and wrapped it with the fabric.

He treated her hands like they were delicate and prone to breaking as he placed them in her lap carefully. It was a silly gesture considering she'd just used them to break a couple of jaws, but the sentiment touched her. DJ had used her to make some money, but he cared about her wellbeing. It was impossible to stay upset with him for long.

He tilted his head looking down at her hands, "When we leave, your wounds will be g-gone."

She was mildly impressed. "This place takes its fighting seriously."

"Good show," said the bartender. He came over, and took the ointment and stone, putting it back behind the counter.

"They were probably all drunk anyway," she said. DJ had been looking over the blade, when she took the knife from his hand and handed it handle first to the bartender. "You can have this if you want it."

The bartender put a glass he'd been cleaning down, and took it from her. He eyed DJ with a smirk, and said "I'll have your table ready soon."

"I didn't want the knife anyway," DJ said pretending like he hadn't been bothered. She could tell he was a little peeved. He put his chin in his hand, peering over at her. "They have the best fights," he said with a grin. The woman crossed her arms, not impressed.

He shrugged his shoulders, "They do."

"You got into that argument on purpose," she asserted.

He squeezed his fore finger and thumb together and squinted one eye, "A-a little bit. Are you upset?"

"Depends on how much richer we are."

"We can buy another ship…" he pulled out a card from his pocket, "Act-act-actually, we won another ship." He said tossing the card to her, with a chuckle. She held the card in her hand, perplexed.

The card had a picture of a clunker of a ship. When she turned it over it had a bunch of specs on it she didn't understand.

She glanced at DJ. There was a dark humor in her eye that made him tilt his head worriedly. She turned around on the bar and readied a throw, aiming the card across the bar. "We don't need another damn ship," she said and threw it. It hit someone in the back of the head, and she turned back around. DJ made an 'oh well' face and picked his teeth with one of his lock picks.

"At least tell me what happened," she said.

"Well," he started putting the pick away, "Wanted to get table to look at the s-s-sea...but they were all full. Big g-guy offered his table over a friendly card game. Only, I didn't trust Til to be so friendly so I balanced his deck." She put her head in her hands, which made him exclaim, "I w-w-won fairly okay."

"Oh of course you did," she patronized.

He chuckled. "They just happen to n-notice I fumbled with the deck. They were the ones cheating, I w-wanted the game to be fair." He nodded his head emphatically, insisting he'd been telling the truth.

"Did they notice or did you make them notice?" The woman already knew the answer.

"Hehe," he said scratching his head. Taking this as confirmation of DJ's predictable deceit, she giggled. Slowly the giggle transformed into a deep, hearty laugh. It was a laugh that had been welling up within her since she and DJ met. It was the kind of laugh that makes someone grab their belly and cry… and it was contagious. The more she laughed, the more DJ laughed with her. Soon, they were two fools causing a ruckus without even understanding why. The woman felt relief. She was relaxed. She was happy, and when she looked at DJ…he looked happy too.