"What the hell happened? What's all over you?"

She wrinkled her nose. Pursed her lips with it. "Ohhh. Welllll…. There was a disagreement about some personal effects and it made a mess when I poked them back."

He sucked in a long breath. "You stabbed somebody? I told you-"

"No, no. It wasn't like that. I promise."

"What was it like, then?"

"I, due to circumstances beyond my control, had to poke someone."

"With what?"

"Um. It wasn't my fault. I was just, you know, there, and he came at me. With a knife…"

She was stripping off, dumping her clothes into the washer. He had to get her an upgrade.

"You stabbed a mugger with his own knife?"

"I think he was a potential rapist, honestly. I don't even carry a bag for a purse-snatcher."

"I take it we're not reporting this." There was disapproval in his voice.

She just gave him an incredulous look.

"Why didn't you have a blaster or-"

She was shimmying out of some of the clingiest pants he'd ever seen on her. Looked good in them, too. Damn good. The flesh revealed by the woven pattern at the hips of the dainties beneath? He could appreciate her attention to detail.

Groaned when she handed him a blaster and stunner both.

"For the record? This is why Wad'e thinks you're trouble."

She had the gall to wink up at him. "But you and I know otherwise, right?"

He just lifted patrician brows and stared down at her.

Feigned disinterest so hard.

When she was down to her underthings she held her hand out for the bag he carried. Squirted some stuff on the washcloth she'd asked him to bring and wiped down her face, behind her ears.

"I can't believe you didn't get stopped, looking like that."

"Local law enforcement gig has kind of a live-and-let-live attitude."

"That's terrifying."

"Yep all that worried clucking the four of you did for nothing."

She threw the washcloth into the machine's belly and reached for the detergent.

"You should probably pretreat or something-"

The woman down the aisle of the public laundromat very deliberately turned away at the look on the young woman's face.

The woman in question just chewed her gum over to the side of her jaw.

"I've been getting blood out of my clothes since puberty. Did you want yours to be next?"

He held his hands up in surrender.

"I still don't get why we're standing here, when just over there is-"

"Did you see my shit? This was the first place I came to where nobody would say a whole lot about any of it."

"Why didn't you abandon said shit and-"

She levelled him with another death-glare. "That is my very favorite sweater in the whole world."

"My mistake."

She reached for her boots, took them to the deep sink in the long counter at the back of the laundry facility. He stood where he was, admired the show as she walked away from him. The woman had a body that didn't quit.

"Can I offer you a shirt or something?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

"Be that as it may, we are, indeed, in a public place."

"I'll borrow your jacket after I get these clean. I don't want to splash up on your beautiful coat."

He nodded. Just chewed his own rurik root while he watched her.

A gentleman probably would have averted his eyes. Volunteered to do it for her. Maybe turned away, kept watch while she performed her ablutions. He could see the egress in both the bug-eye mirrors in the corners of the facility, though, and figured she'd be better off for having the distraction. Displacement activities filled the hole while you worked through shit.

When she shook her hands and turned he shucked that coat she admired. Yanked his sweater off over his head and offered it to her first.

It came down to crest her thighs. With the boots she was tugging on and covered with his mid-length topper it would look like a fashion choice.

Maybe not one he'd have made… but it would look more deliberate than anything else.

"You wanna go get something to eat while your little walk in the park drains and dries over here?" he asked.

She thought about it. Glanced down at herself and then up at him.

"I don't want you to be cold, where I've got your-"

I may never be cold again, he thought. Instead when he interrupted her he said, "I'm pretty tough. I passed twenty places on my way here that looked good."

He'd tucked her blaster into the coat pocket, threw his arm over her shoulders as they walked out. The older lady doing her wash nodded back at him when he dipped his head politely as they passed by her.

"The noodle place two doors down has good food, it'll still be open and they make fresh all day long. Something warm and soothing on your belly if you've had a fright," she told them.

"Just the thing, then," Vau said gratefully. "Can I bring you a bowl back?"

"Oh, no. No, thank you. I've nearly done here and will probably be gone before you get back."

He nodded again and the woman with the magnificent mane of blue hair just nearly the same color as his sweater beamed at her.

"Thank you."

.

.o0o.

.

"Is there a plan for tonight beyond Wad'e winning us a whole hell of a lot of money?" she asked as they slurped companionably.

"Not to my knowledge. The ID docs and registration held up and the mech team didn't seem suspicious."

"Chakkyrr and Wad'e think that's because your ship is on recall lists somewhere."

"I heard," he groaned.

He'd heard. They'd discussed it extensively. When the model was pulled up in the mainframe of the repair bay's office and he'd been asked the nature of the incident electrical was the best he'd been able to come up with at the time. Blue force lightning didn't seem the thing to throw out there to the droids. The wets? The wets had laughed far more than Vau thought appropriate.

"We've seen it before," was the only comment the mech droid punching numbers in the compu-tab deigned to make.

And, for whatever reason, the identity of the Count held up. They didn't ask for a deposit, only asked him to sign the credit agreement. So, somewhere, somehow, Jaing was probably going to get dinged for this little misadventure.

It was enough to put a satisfied sneer on Vau's face.

"You terrify me when you smile like that."

"Aw, now, I'm just as harmless as can be. You've all my armament and the heavy goods at present."

She glanced under the table. Rubbed the strill with the side of her boot.

"Do you believe his malarky?"

Lord Mirdalon was in a benevolent mood. Bloodshed and broth seemed to make the creature even more affectionate. The response was a loud yowled and it tilted that knobby head so she could get to the good spots.

A few tables away the patrons looked over with some concern, some disgust.

Obviously not fans of the pet-friendly approach to al fresco dining.

"Why doesn't your ship have laundry facilities?" she asked him.

"There's a bank for further additions in the below deck. I'll look into it. Would have to be a small set, though. Apartment-sized."

"How did you wash the sheets and such?"

He stared blankly at her.

She stared back.

When no response was forthcoming she twirled soup with irritated motions.

"We discussed this."

"No. You praddled about this. I live in beskar'gam. I like my beskar'gam. If you'd give in and let me get you fitted for some beskar'gam you wouldn't be so finicky about where you lay your head."

"You need to change your sheets, Walon Vau. Why have them if you're not going to touch them?"

"Until you joined our little boating party, Mirdalon was not allowed to sleep in or alongside my bedding. And I've slept far worse places than brand-spanking new but unwashed sheets."

"I just can't believe you haven't washed sheets since you bought them."

"On the contrary, I laundered the linens we'd used when last at Kyrimorut. Which, if you'd agreed to visit, you'd have known."

She made a face.

"I like Kashyyyk."

He reached out to cover her hand. Smiled more gently. "I know. It suits you, oddly enough."

Enacca and her grove seemed to have adopted the ex-jedi, ex-sailor, self-appointed POW huntress. Much like a beloved pet. Or a long-lost cousin. She had her own chamber now in a tree house. Which had led to her desire to wander about this particular branch of the community in search of items to pad her nest.

She'd never had a permanent home to decorate before.

How did one argue with that… especially when one was holding the King's Array and looking forward to cashing in at the end of the hand? So he'd suggested she take Mird and let her out of his sight.

His. Fekking. Mistake.

She needed a keeper and apparently the strill wasn't enough.

"Did your would-be rapist steal your bags or-"

"They're on-delivery to the ship. I found some blankets for your bunks, too. Super cozy."

"It's going to be 40° on that dar'yaim."

"What's a dahrr yay-mmm?"

He sucked in a long breath. "An island of lunacy. Insanity. Somewhere dreadful. In this case one shabla hot fekking one."

"Mandalorian or Irmenuii?"

"I like Mandalor. And Irmenu was staid and rigid. Neither qualify. Pleasant temperate climates both." He smirked at her.

She narrowed her eyes. "I might not be done stabbing people today."

His laugh garnered more disapproval from the other late-night diners than the strill had.