A First Encounter
"Okay now where were we"? Shimi started as she came into the living room just to find Braylen asleep. "So it looks like you took my advice and got some rest but now what am I going to do with you"? Shimi stood there for a moment, her eyes tracing the soft rise and fall of Braylen's chest. The quiet of the living room wrapped around them, the only sound the faint ticking of a nearby clock. She hadn't expected to be in this situation—unsure of him, but now undeniably drawn to the way his features softened in sleep. She sighed quietly, crossing her arms, debating her next move. Part of her wanted to wake him, press him for answers. But another part, the one growing stronger by the second, urged her to let him rest a little longer. She couldn't deny he was… kind of handsome. More than she had realized before. "Why couldn't you just be easier to figure out?" she muttered under her breath.
The questions still swirled in her mind, but they didn't seem quite as urgent now. Maybe she could afford to wait a little longer.
Shimi hesitated for only a moment longer, then gently placed her hand on Braylen's arm, giving it a soft shake.
"Hey," she said, her voice low but firm. "Wake up."
Braylen stirred, his brows knitting together before his eyes fluttered open. For a second, he looked confused, disoriented, as if he didn't quite remember where he was. But then his gaze locked onto hers, and the sleepiness in his eyes faded quickly, replaced with alertness. He blinked a few times, sitting up slowly on the couch, rubbing his face with one hand. "What happened?" "You fell asleep." "Yeah… sorry about that. Guess I didn't realize how tired I was." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to focus. "What did you need to know again?"
" I wanted to know why I found you half dead in front of a crashed ship." Shimi asked,
" I was shot down."
" I gathered that much for myself, but why?'
" I'm a smuggler. It comes with the job., I don't suppose you know where I can get my ship fixed? Just one problem I was supposed to get paid for that last job before my contact sold me out so I'm broke."
"Well, you should go to Mos Eisley," Shimi suggested. "You'll find no shortage of work for smuggling. As for parts to fix your ship, I'd recommend Watto. He has a knack for getting what you need for the right price."
" Looks like I'm heading to Mos Eisley next, then, but first I need to get my ship."
"What? It's half buried in sand!"
" Oh, I have my ways. Oh, and Shimi. Thanks. I won't forget this. Well until next time."
Shimi watched as Braylen gathered his things, his movements smooth but deliberate. There was something about the way he carried himself that made it hard to ignore the pull of curiosity she felt toward him. He was a smuggler, caught in a mess that wasn't entirely clear yet, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter as much at that moment.
"Until next time," she repeated, her voice carrying a warmth she hadn't intended to show. She stood in the doorway as he made his way out, his figure disappearing into the harsh desert landscape.
Once he was gone, Shimi leaned against the frame of the door, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at her lips. "Half buried in sand," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. Braylen had a knack for making the impossible sound casual.
She didn't know how or when, but something told her this wasn't the last she'd see of him. There was more to Braylen than he'd let on—more layers to uncover, more mysteries to solve. And despite herself, she was intrigued.
For now, though, the desert was quiet again, and life would return to its usual rhythm. But the thought lingered: the next time Braylen walked through that door, things would be different.
And Shimi found herself strangely looking forward to it.
