4 - Who Are You
Soundtrack: Meet Me At the Corner - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Corso wearily trudged into the cantina, his boots dragging in a trail of muddy rainwater as he tried to knuckle away the dull ache in his eyes. Staring at a computer terminal all day was not his idea of fun. Some people liked watching the lines of code form underneath their fingers; the solemn glow of the screens across the rhythmically beeping equipment. Personally, he preferred the light kickback of a blaster, the rush of adrenaline that came with action.
Still...the Captain needed that slicing kit, and so he'd give her a slicing kit.
He ran a hand along the counter and moved toward his favorite seat. It was a shadowy little corner situated at the very end of the bar. Quiet, cozy, and you could see everything going on in the whole place from there. Sometimes it was nice to just sit back and watch the people coming and going; to not pay attention to any one noise, but just enjoy the cheery din of conversation and life and escape.
...She was sitting there.
He shrugs and slides into the seat next to her. There are no greetings, no plied questions. The way he sees her look at the world – like she's closed off inside her own mind, her movements saying one thing even as her words say another – makes him think she may not appreciate having a drinking buddy around. So he just signals the waiter droid for a drink and waits for her to decide if she wants his company or not.
Her gaze flicks up towards him once, twice. Her calloused fingers loosen from the glass of ice water she has in her hands and fold around one ragged thumbnail on her left hand.
Finally, she bumps her shoulder against his in greeting. Casually, like they are old friends. "Hey there," she drawls.
"Hey, Captain," he replies easily. "Didn't expect to find you here. Figured you'd be out at Mannet Point by now."
Her smirk twists into a wry grin, and he gets the feeling that something has gone wrong. "Always that eager to be rid of me, huh? Get the big, bad smuggler outta here before she nicks something and pawns it." She nods, tapping a finger against the scratched durasteel surface of the counter. "I gotcha."
"What?! No!" Corso is quick to retort. To his credit, he manages to look properly horrified.
Havyn just grins wider. She's gonna stick around for a while, she decides. It's fun to talk to him. "Relax, Corso. I'm kidding," she says, absentmindedly chipping away at the frost on her glass.
"…Alright then," is all he can think to say, because she's smiling this strange, hooded smile; like she's getting a kick out of a punchline only she knows about. "Didn't want you getting the wrong idea. We really couldn't do this without you, Captain."
"Thanks. But you know, you don't have to call me 'Captain'," she edges. "That's just what I have my clients call me when I want to make a quick transaction. 'Hi Captain; here's your credits, Captain; goodbye, Captain.' I figure if we'll be working together for a while, it's best you start using my name."
He thinks back to the day they met and tries to recall the name on the shipping manifest. "Haven, wasn't it?" he asks conversationally.
"Have-INN," she corrects him pointedly. "Havyn. Not 'Haven'. Luckily, my parents weren't that big on irony, or else I'd have to get an alias."
" Havyn, then. It suits you," he says honestly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time that evening.
A minute passes, and another. For a while, they are content to just slouch over their drinks and listen to the pleasant cacophony of conversation over the rusty cantina music. It's a nice change from the way they've been acting the past week, she decides. Suddenly they aren't two fugitives deftly skirting around the other with meaningless pleasantries, but two teammates contented to share a moment of peace together.
She nudges him again. "Hey. You want to know something?"
Corso smiles, and this time it's genuine. He gently returns the nudge, taking care not to jostle her too much. "Sure, let's hear it."
For a while longer she is silent. She chews on her lip in indecision, watching as her cold, aching hands swill the melting ice around inside the glass. The gears are turning in her mind, and he knows to give her time to think.
"I kinda wish you were coming with me to Mannet Point," she admits, her smooth tone glossing over the hesitancy in her voice. "Viidu…told me about your parents. About how they were killed by Separatists." Her eyelashes rest against her cheeks for an instant, but then she's holding his gaze and her eyes are practically flashing. "I think he's wrong to keep you away from the fight. If you really want to be in it, then that's your deal. Your decision, I mean.. And...look, I just figured that if I was in your shoes, I'd be really kriffing mad. I'd want to take names, see some justice done. I'd at least want somebody to give me the choice. So if you really want to go, just give me the word. I'll get you over there."
"I appreciate the thought, Captain," he replies at length. "Much as I want to go, though, this isn't my fight. I got a job to do here, and I don't reckon it would be very fair to you if I abandoned it just to play vigilante."
"Fair enough," Havyn nods. "Just wanted to put that out there."
"I know." He turns and looks at her, more grave than she's ever seen him look before. "Captain, if you don't mind me asking...are you orphaned, too?"
Her brow furrows in confusion. "Why would you ask that?"
"I dunno; most smugglers usually are. I just figured you were doing me a favor because you were in a similar situation, is all."
Havyn looks down at her glass again, smiling a slow, sad smile. "No, actually. A lot of people expect smugglers to have this big, tragic backstory. Not really true. I got a mom, a dad, and two brothers back home. All alive and kicking."
Corso leans forward in his seat, linking his fingers together. Suddenly he wants to know more about this mysterious enigma of a person. He can see the rare flicker in her barriers and suddenly he's grasping at wisps of conversation, trying to get a picture of the woman who just may be saving his life.
"Let me guess," he drawls. "Nar Shaddaa."
"Nope again. I'm from Tython," she smirks. He knows that she's onto his little game, because ever-so-subtly, she starts to gather her things and shift her jacket back onto her shoulders.
"The Jedi homeworld." He swivels around to catch her gaze. He's stalling her now, and neither of them knows why.
"One and the same," she replies, still facing him even as she makes her way to the door. "I'm not a Jedi, just so you know."
"So...what are you?" he dares to ask.
It doesn't matter. She's almost out of the cantina now, grinning like a Cheshire cat even as the wind begins to ripple at the edges of her jacket. "Tell you what. We survive this fracked-up mess, and maybe one day I'll tell you," she shoots back with a tilt of her chin.
He raises his glass to her, "I'll hold you to that, Captain."
A/N: And that was the obligatory discussion about pasts! :D Well, except for Havyn failing to mention that she's Sith-spawn. Tsk, tsk.
This was also basically my reaction to what Viidu said before the Mannet Point quests...it's like, "okay, I understand why you won't let him go, but it should still be his choice. And, y'know, considering that you're aware I'm going to be surrounded a hundred-to-one, it'd probably be in your best interests to send along some BACKUP..." Just saying.
So anyway, how do you think things are going to go down when Havyn finally reveals that she's a descendant of Revan? Seeing as Separatists work for the Imperials, the Imperials work for the Sith, Revan is historically the most famous Sith ever, and Separatists killed his family? I, personally, think that...
*spoiler fairy floats in with a shotgun*
...never mind.
Thanks as always to writtenrhythm for beta reading this! :D
Merry *almost* Christmas, you guys! Now that gift shopping and work things and studying before winter break haven't kicked the shizz out of my writing time, prepare to see some more chapters! More specifically, a bonus one just for the holidays, and then the obligatory 'Happy Yuletime' chapter. Cheers!