A/N: Thank you to Stillwater Rundeepo and Laelwen for your kind comments. With this fic I thought I'd try something with Bane and Sing that wasn't out-and-out comedy, so I'm really glad that people are enjoying the characterisation.

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Located on Levels 2680 through to 2685, the Red Sector Amphitheatre was nowhere near as impressive or grandiose as the name suggested. A few hundred years ago it had been something to look at; during that period when holding vast gladiatorial battles had been rigueur for the Hutt clans. These days however the crumbling arena had been cut up and sub-divided into a thousand mean little partitions, its ornate columns and sculptures rendered cheap and dilapidated.

Still, while the form might have changed the general function definitely hadn't.

Walking though the high arched entrance that demarcated the Amphitheatre from the surrounding brothels, bars and gambling dens, Bane drew his hat down and his collar up. There was no need to advertise his presence here, amongst the throngs of gamblers and fans there to watch the big matches. He continued along the public walkway, occasionally glancing up at a giant screen advertising a match-up between two Zabrak celebrity wrestlers or a Corellian Rules boxing final... always alert for anything that might hint at an oncoming knife in the back. After a while the crowds thinned and the bright, colourful lights took on a grimy cast. Slick advertisements for galactically broadcast prize fights were replaced by come-ons for 'Twi'lek Mud Wrestling' and 'Hot Zeltron Cat Fights'. Ignoring the scantily clad girls in doorways and furtive sex tourists, he carried on. He hadn't told Aurra which part of the Amphitheatre to meet him in, but he knew exactly where she'd be.

As neon gave way to dim, utilitarian lighting he turned off the main track and onto a gloomy walkway that was bordered on each side by squat utilitarian buildings. The names of the establishments were painted above the entrances on roughly cut pieces of board: The Red Fist, Knife Inn, Tarron's Ring, The Strangle Hold and the enigmatically named Gort's Fifth Redemption. Away from the pseudo-respectable bustle and glitz of the Amphitheatre's outer circles, this was where the real connoisseurs came: the people who truly appreciated the twin arts of combat and butchery.

He carried on until he came to a structure that, while certainly no more aesthetically pleasing than those surrounding it, was far larger. There was no name on the building, but it was known locally as Somo's, after the late Aqualish proprietor. There were also no bouncers at the door... but given the nature of the establishment they were probably unnecessary. The present management seemed to be of the mind that a little unscheduledviolence only added to the ambiance.

Adjusting his hat, Bane strode through the entrance and into a simply furnished but not inhospitable looking bar. There weren't many people around, but then this wasn't where the action was. The Sullustan master thief Nua Sund was by the bar conversing with a short, hairy being from a species Bane couldn't place, while a small gaggle of well dressed females had colonised one table in the corner. He didn't recognise any of the women, but they were probably just the mistresses and paid for girlfriends of enthusiasts, who didn't care for the sport themselves. When they caught sight of him a titter of excitement ran through the group.

'Cad Bane!'

'Is that him?'

'Can't be.'

'Yes it is. Lionus hired him once. I was there.'

Amused, he tipped his hat to them before heading on through a set of heavy double doors.

The stench hit him immediately: blood, sweat and a few other bodily excretions he'd rather not think about, all overlaid with a thick blanket of sickly sweet incense. They were certainly not smells he was unused to, but the sheer concentration made his eyes sting for a few seconds.

He blinked and surveyed the arena. It was much the same as it had been the last time he'd been obliged to conduct business there: a large rectangular space with a series of stepped platforms overlooking a pit at the centre. Few beings turned their heads to look at him as he entered. Eyes were all on the Human and the Zabrak viciously slugging it out in the pit. Scanning the area, he spotted Aurra. She was sitting alone at a ring side table: face a picture of rapt fascination. A brief flicker of her gaze in his direction was the only acknowledgement of his presence that she gave.

Undeterred he headed through the crowds towards her, shoving aside any being too slow or too stupid to get out of the way to get out of his way in time.

"Sing," he said, seating himself next to her.

Clearly irritated by the interruption, she regarded him with narrowed eyes. "I'm watching this." Then without waiting for a response she switched her attention back to the match.

Glancing up at the ring he saw that the Zabrak was close to winning and so he sat back and watched the fight... or rather, sat back and watched Aurra watching the fight. Her arousal was obvious: the flushed cheeks, the parted mouth, the distinctive pheromones. It made her look younger, paradoxically softer.

And dose looks can sure be deceivin', he thought, amused at the idea that a man less... wisethan himself might be fooled into thinking that there was something tender lurking beneath the hard edges and petty sadism. Hell, perhaps that was how she'd reeled Ohnaka in. That one had 'romantic idiot' written all over him.

As the Zabrak landed a bone crunching blow, her tongue darted out and wet her lips.

Though dat I can appreciate.

A pant of excitement as the Zabrak scored a second blow, breasts rising and falling in a way that seemed almost contrived to draw the eye.

And dat.

This particular fight being a battle to incapacitation rather than the death, the whole thing ended abruptly when the human stopped trying to move.

Looking disappointed at the sudden cessation of violence, Aurra turned her gaze to him.

"This better be good."

"It is," he murmured. "But I'm not talkin' here." He gestured at the crowds seated around them.

For a few seconds she looked at the next two challengers on the benches: a Nautolan and a Twi'lek. Then seeming to come to some kind of conclusion, she stood and nodded towards an empty platform in the upper-tiers.

He followed behind as she led on. The crowds parted in front of her even faster than they had for him, some primal cross-species survival instinct kicking in. If would have irked him, if he his attention hadn't been divided between watching for any sudden blaster draws and appreciating her back view.

On reaching the platform, they took a corner table and sat. Both careful to select a seat that would give them a clear view of the arena.

"So what do you want?" she said, settling back.

You on your back, he refrained from saying. "I've been thinkin' about dat little proposition of yours."

"Have you really?"

Dat's right, carry on feigning boredom. Chur eyes give you away and choo know it, but dat's no reason to drop the pretence and lose chur self-respect. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into something that was half-way between a smirk and a smile. "De way I see it if choo do something for me, I can do something for you."

She regarded him suspiciously. "What do you want me to do?"

He slid a datapad containing info on Gunray's targets across the table.

She picked it up, glanced at it and then snorted.

"Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "Dey need to look like isolated hits?"

"A twelve year old rookie could do this."

"But dey don't know when to keep der mouths shut."

"So you want me take them out?"

He shrugged again. "As you say, a twelve year old rookie could do it."

"And what's in it for me?"

"You do dis for me gratis and I might just think about helpin' choo with dat job for Brull."

She gave a short, slightly bitter laugh. "I thought you didn't like my terms."

"Let's just say I've been reconsidering all de angles." He leaned forwards in his seat and rested a hand on her lower right thigh. Her eyes momentarily widened, but she didn't pull away. "I figure I can work under choo dis once, if choo can make it worth my while."

"Under me?" For a second she regarded him with an expression that could only be described as predatory.

"What else would choo call it?" Without really thinking, he slid the hand up higher, fingers brushing against the leather of her holster.

She looked down, slapped away his hand and then leaned across the table. "You sure like pushing your luck."

He was suddenly seized by the urge to hook a finger under the neckline of her top and take a peek at what was underneath. He resisted though. There was after all a difference between flirting with danger and suicidal stupidity. "So do you."

"What's wrong, Bane, getting bored of those pliant little Togrutan schuttas? Want someone who makes you work for it?"

"I'm a man. I like variety."

"Then spend a little cash and get yourself one of those Twi'leks you were talking about. You're not my type."

"An' what is chur type? The dumb muscle down there?" He gestured disparagingly towards the fighters sitting lined up on the benches alongside the ring.

"It has its appeal."

"Dat how you ended up with Ohnaka?"

"Hondo's not stupid..." She paused, before adding: "All of the time."

He chuckled. "Choo know, it's almost touching, the way dat choo defend him like dat."

She scowled. "Let's just stick to business."

"And der I was thinkin' dat business and pleasure was all one and de same to you?"

"I'm not a whore." Her voice was suddenly an angry hiss.

"I ain't offerin' cash, Sing."

"Then what are you offering, Bane?"

"To put choo back in second place again. Choo want dat, don't you?"

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. She wanted it and she wanted it real bad. But the words 'second place' were never going to sit well with her, and she sure as hell wasn't going to take kindly to the suggestion that he was going to generously allow her to take that spot either.

It was a sentiment he could understand. Nobody wanted to be second best on sufferance.

He took the sharp slap with a magnanimity that surprised himself even more than it surprised her.

She sat back, edgy and suspicious, hands caressing her holsters. "I told you, I'm not a karking whore." The cold vehemence was surprising. Usually she just responded to unwanted propositions with a few moments of cheerful violence.

Maybe it's different when it comes from me... Or maybe dis place is too close to where she came from. She'd been born near here, hadn't she; to some spice addict or other? That was the story at least.

Either way, he could tell that he'd blown it.

Should've just asked her out for a drink.

Still, he could at least try and salvage something of financial benefit to himself.

"Okay den, how about dis. Choo take out de names on dat knock list I showed you and cut me fifty percent of the bounty money for de Central Administration Job and I'll let choo take de lead on it."

He watched as she considered it... or at least pretended to. He could already tell what answer would be.

Sing, half the respectable wives in the galaxy would trade twenty minutes on their backs for a fraction of what chur willin' to pay out to me instead. I don't know whether to respect choo or think chur an idiot.

"Done." She said the word without emotion and then stood, hands still hovering near her holsters. "We can meet again in two days. I'll send the location via the usual channels."

He watched as she headed on back down to the lower-tiers and a better view of her dumb muscle and inwardly sighed.

Looks like it's back to de pliant little Togrutan schuttas.