#aev the mandalorian

[ghostymarni]

i made breakfast + all he wanted was caf

[roomselfcontain2]

Cornish pop 4 bedroom bungalow house garage to bedroom make over plan and design layout alone in the compound with federal light stand alone 4bhk home located at Ada George area of port harcourt city rivers state Nigeria.

[ghostymarni]

@kark-trooper-echo you can’t nonchalantly admit to knowing about the validity of the innocence of caf and walkway from that. Enjoy your drink to go <3 thanks @eobe for the saleucami sugar for my caf, I’ll have to order that again.

Do you want to start a club where we walk down the street and smack stickers on everyone’s face that says “being different is ok”? Cuz I do.

I would think that my squad's very existence demonstrates that being different is ok. I do not know what positive effect would be gained via additional physical altercation.

[ghostymarni]

@eobe I told you I’d tackle fox + steal his caf

[ghostymarni]

Crosshair, I know how you feel. but, we’re not alone.

I’m sorry for avoiding you, for avoiding my own grief too.

[ghostymarni]

first round of droid companion ideas for my mandalorian OC

so far, I’m leaning towards a reprogrammed KX-security droid with a deep baritone voicebox

I had a mental scene play out of KX (unofficial name) meeting Fox, + KX immediately not liking him “you can not protect her, commander”.

then KX walking passed Fox, following me out of the room whispering to Fox:

edit: the enforcer security droids were created during the galactic empire, which is a connecting story line after order 66. While this is just the beginning of character development, I think if I’m creating a loose time accurate storyline, KX would be a rare prototype enforcer droid before the empire was made official, who was discarded before the republic fell.

[ghostymarni]

‘hey my name is Aeviririn (ey-vir-eer-in), I go by Aev (aeve).”

female mandalorian: black hair long mohawk, dark brown eyes (gold orange color in sunlight), light ivory skin tone + reds easy with emotions.

weapons: long range sniper rifle (not yet pictured), hand pistol for short range + small yellow vibro blade in her right boot. right handed sniper, ambidextrous shooter, left hand strength dominant.

mind if I join you?

flimsiwork fox x OC | part 2

chapter 1 | chapter 2

character bio:

last of her clan, a wanderer in odd jobs. More for hire, than a bounty hunter to get by like most of the galaxy. She took the creed as a youngling, but for her own survival she’s broken it to get by. This is the way, but only in half faith as her path is greater than any creed.

On a personal level, Aev is a “tomboy” rough-nut sarcastic warrior, she wears her heart on her sleeve, is stubborn to loss, but has twice as much fight when she’s down, determined to prove you wrong. She likes to feel pretty but finds less use of it for survival, unless it’s for the right high-class job. On a business level, she’s blunt + of few words (she’s keen on listening more than speaking knowing her clients usually slip up with useful information). Aev leans on the intimidating bucket persona for her jobs, never let your guard down + trust no one.

Aev is looking for a new droid + ship. Hers were lost in a bad crossfire with contending bounty hunters on the same hitman job. Hitchhiking + saving her credits, she’s done volunteer work in cities like coruscant for a free sheltered nights sleep. But doesn’t hesitate taking on dangerous gigs as she is keen + precise with her sniper rifle, often called on for high paying debt bounties that the top dogs don’t take.

While Aev isn’t the party type, she does enjoy a good cantina drink + ambiance knowing that’s where the best job offers are-

Find her getting herself in + out of trouble all in one go, she’s quick on her feet, but emotionally weak to an emotional close proximity of trust + space. She’s lost trust in everyone being a survivor, but deep down she’s got a bigger heart than she lets herself believe.

[ghostymarni]

you are the one that picked me for this mission, commander

[ghostymarni]

undercover intel retrieval mission with the commander himself <3

[ghostymarni]

thinking about @eobe + @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf ‘s recently shared art progress video replay + wanted to share one too.

lineart + video below the cut

[ghostymarni]

some KX practice, removing a restraining bolt

[ghostymarni]

taking a self appreciation moment, to see my character development of Aev

If you’re working on your oc, please keep creating!

It’ll come to you! <3

[ghostymarni]

I always forget about the theory that cross smokes

had to raw sketch the idea before I forgot, but proud of my quick anatomy these days

[ghostymarni]

A Job II

TW: fighting, physcial pain descriptions, blood

Aev- mandalorian OC/female reader - chapter 2

chapter 1

(starting her story with a bang, head on. Sorry if this feels cliche, I’m experimenting my writing)

You’re holding your breath the moment you see a thermal body in the room, frozen in place, heart beating hard in your chest.

The body shifts in the seat, and before you’re reacting you’re jumped from behind, pinning you down in a hold.

Arms instantly squeezed to your side in the fall. Your head thrown against the ground knocking the wind out of you, followed by a loud beskar ringing of your bucket; taking most of the impact.

Hissing in pain being tackled to the ground, your vision still wobbly from your late night decisions.

Instantaneously your bucket is shoved into the ground as the attacker shifts their weight pinning you on the floor harder; pulling your arms behind your back in a hold.

You wheeze a choked comeback “What a cheap shot from behind. How pathet-” your attacker re-shoves your head into the ground. Grabbing your blaster from its holster into their own grip, you hear it click behind your head as a warning.

You can’t see anything, but movement from across the room begins rustling, hearing leather shuffle and boots click.

“There’s rumor you’re working undercover for the Coruscant Guard” spurs clinking with each step.

“-taking our bounties.” the shadow croaks. “Now that, affects our business, especially our pay.”

He stands with a few adjusting creaks against the hotel floor, taking slow precise steps toward you.

A wave of panic and instant thoughts that you need to ‘get your armor and get out’, starts running through you over and over.

Thrashing your shoulders side to side, fighting against the attacker who’s pinning you down.

Those click of the boots stop in front of you, halting your half-drunk attempt to escape.

A boot lifts moving your bucket to the side with its point.

“Remove it” he hisses at the body above you.

You’re curving your head to stop them from taking it off, with no avail in your efforts. Bucket thrown clear across the room in a thud, bounce, and roll into the wall.

There’s a pin of silence. You’re bracing for the worst, and he finally speaks again.

“it’s bad for business and well-

we can’t have that, little lady”.

He slowly pushes his boot into you, stepping on your head. the increasing pressure causing you to yell in pain as he steps harder on you, digging your face against the floor.

“Kark! You’re pathetic doing this inna group!” yelling muffled at the floor, tears starting to fall from your eyes.

The bounty hunter stops your torture lesson for a moment waiting for your next words. Their boot pressure pulled back at your weak insult.

Taking advantage of the pause you heckle,

“too bad you’re not good enough to take me down yourself. You had to get help like a-“ your head is bashed into the floor by the body on you.

You take a moment of impact as your nose is gushing, dripping down your face and onto the floor, gasping for air.

You’re buying time. Anything to put off skipping to the payback ending.

“Move!” he croaks, kicking off the body holding you down, following the weight change motion with a kick to your gut by spurred boots.

Heaving yourself forward curling yourself on the floor, you cry an empty wail of pain.

“Kriff off Bane” you spit blood.

“So much for working alone”

he kicks you again, and again, then crouching down over you. The smell of leather, blaster fire, and your own blood taking over your senses.

Cad Bane grabs you by your hair, pulling your face up towards him. Bloody nose bleeding down your face, black eye forming, furrowed brows, gasping to catch your breath.

You’re staring back at him furiously into his red eyes, anger radiating off him.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you mandalorian?”

Grumbling in annoyance, his grip in your hair tightening before he gives a last hard toss, dropping your head the short distance onto the floor.

He didn’t want you dead, not just yet; like a predator playing with its food before the kill.

You’re practically dead weight now anyway. Gasping for air covered in blood, dirt, and bruises, all cut up.

Bane takes a few scuffs back, pushing his leather aside followed by a set of clicks.

You know what happens next, there is no next time. No more gigs. No more ship redemption. No new droid companion, no more, anything.

The pressure is giving in, the weight of the lesson learned is taking over what’s left of your consciousness. Not just from what’s lingering of fading alcohol that seems to be knocked right out of you, but from the constant physical push you’ve been inflicting on yourself for too long. for survival.

The last of your vision is fading, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open to focus on the bounty hunters.

Your eyes are closing on themselves. It’s-

Spontaneously, shots are sent through the only window that’s bringing in the low contrast of the dim shadows, shooting a bounty hunter, dropping him on the floor next to you. The thud forces you to open your eyes from the vibration.

Crashing through, the door explodes in pieces and smoke, chased by what sounds like troopers, yelling alongside blaster fire. You can’t even wince at the explosion, taking the fallen debris thrown around, whining at the un-braced impact.

Bane and the other hunters take the explosion advantage to shoot their way out, you’re hearing only blasters and flailed screams of those shot down, or potentially used as a shield for a getaway.

There’s a yell and thud from one of the troopers, the hard crunch of plastoid hitting the wall to the floor. Followed by more blaster shots and yelling.

You’re not sure what’s going on at this point, your fight is fading. The ringing in your ears constant, gasps for air getting shorter.

A sudden pressure on your body pushes on your shoulder, a muffle voice repeating over and over until you start to focus in. You manage to come through half looking up at a Coruscant Trooper’s bucket,

“can you hear me?”

“Bring in a med kit! Now!”

There’s a breather on you as suddenly as you can blink. You’re cold.

The darkness is morphing into blurry colors and clearer silhouettes of a shot up hotel room and blown down wall.

Seeing more and more details, attempting to speak not knowing if you’re even moving.

“Ahh…” you breathe

“hey! She’s responding! We need to get her out of here!”

“Ahhr- mmm” you mouth the weak words. The trooper moves in closer trying to read your lips registering what you’re attempting.

Looking around the torn room, he locates your beskar, bucket, and knocked over gear, “Your armor is secure, it’s here.” He affirms.

You feel a sense of relief, half rolling your eyes back, despite the pain knowing it wasn’t taken, it was all you had left.

You couldn’t lose your beskar.

The wavering consciousness starts coming in more and more, exhaustion still fighting over you. Breathing easier again, you take the initiative removing the breather from your face, dropping it on the floor.

The new found focus has you attempting to sit up. insisting to the trooper you’re fine, regardless of the uncontrollable trembling to push yourself up.

Fox comes running through the blown door, he takes a second to register how bad the situation is, before rushing over to you, watching your assisted attempt to stand holding yourself against the wall.

“Troopers!”

Both shifting their buckets toward the awaited command, “I’ll take her from here, collect her armor and any evidence. bag the bodies, send them back for an autopsy report. I need ID’s!”

they nod an affirmative “yes, sir!”

The one helping you stand is passing off your hand to Fox, then quickly retreating to grabbing your belongings.

“Aev, what happened?” He snaps in a half whisper

“I, I was- followed-”, huffing each word as your ribs ache with each gasp.

“You need medical attention.” reaching to catch your waist, watching you falter in a sway every few breath’s.

“I’ll- I’ll be… fine. Like always” the swelling in your left eye has begun closing part of your vision, blood on your face and clothes half dried up and sticky.

“No you’re not, you were almost killed, Aev.” He growls

“It- it’s just. Part of the” gasping and flinching in between your few words, “-just the job.”

You’re expressing a wince practically stuck on your face.

Fox holding you steady, and subconsciously you’re melting into him, the warmth radiating off his armor shattering what was left of your fight.

Tears are falling that you can’t stop, trying to hide it unsuccessfully, turning your head staring at the ground.

Wiping the tears and grime with your leather sleeve in a shaking notion, huffing a skipped breath cry.

The commander leans in trying to catch your eyes, “I can’t have you like this, I’m taking you to medical. Don’t attempt to keep pushing right now. ”

“Why does it matter if I’m beat up or not” wheezing a cry, “-It comes with the job, this lifestyle.” You’re not looking at him, feeling his gaze burning through you.

Fox gives you a moment, hesitant to respond over you uncertain what to say next, “No. Not like this. I just, I need- I need you in good health.”

“I need the credits until I find a ship. I won’t be useless. I can’t be-”, your final protest on the subject practically a hard whisper.

Throwing a hand onto his plastoid to catch yourself in a frantic wobble, the other still propped on the wall.

Fox still gripped around your waist, your eyes begin half closing as you release the wall to hold your head.

You’re woozy. the beating and blood loss finally taking a toll on you after your second wave of fight.

“F-Fox…” you whisper falling forward, fainting into him. He catches you with his other arm holding you for a moment in a secure hold. Fox exhales a stressed sigh of worry, taking in the situation.

“Stubborn woman.” He whispers shaking his head.

watching you breathe shallow against him. he takes another soft exhale, leaning in, touching his bucket against your forehead, “Mesh’la, you’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

Picking you up with both arms in a resting carry across his chest, Fox calls out to his men,

“troopers! wrap up the investigation. dispatch the medic droids on stanby for our arrival!”

“Yes, commander!”

There’s bright white lights starting to seep through your closed eyes. Subtle beeping, gears whirring, and metal clicks fading in.

Your weak resolve forcing your eyes to focus. “Where, what?

-Where, am, i?”

The bright lights having you scrunching your face in response.

There’s a mid-tone beep, followed by a monotone voice, “she is awake, commander.” The medical droid whirrs over, scanning across you. You’re laid out in a medical bed and clothes, the material softly scratching at your small adjusting movements.

The door slides open, echoing foot steps approaching the droid.

“How is she?” A calm voice asks.

You’re not sure who it is, all your senses overloaded. The steps shift taking a few steps back, clicking the lights off.

The scrunched scowl you felt stuck to your expression relaxes. You think you hear a chuckled hum, from your reaction.

The droid relays to the man, “her injuries are clean and healing accordingly. She needs monitored rest to make a full recovery from the inflicted cracked ribs. Blood levels returned to sustainable levels, concussion mino-”

“thank you, I’ll take it from here” he cuts in softly. “That will be all.”

The droid stops, whirring over to the door that slides shut after it.

Footsteps gently march over to you, stoping near your head. They sigh softly.

“Hey little ‘ika, how’re you feeling?”

Your head rolls over to the voice, “thorn?”

He lets out a soft laugh, “yeah it’s me, you took quite the beating. How do you feel?”

“Confused. What happened?” you whisper looking up at his red and white bucket staring down at you. Arms behind his back as he’s slightly leaning over you in the dark room.

Thorn looks around for a moment analyzing the medical gear humming in the half lit room. Removing his bucket placing it on the bed by your hands.

“How much do you remember?”

“Am I being interrogated?” You quip

“No, i just want to know to fill in the pieces.” Thorn smiles in a soft response.

Taking a moment to finish focusing on him, you inhale a deep breath, exhaling trying to recall, shifting your gaze to the ceiling as if to visually see what happened.

“I remember having drinks, then Fox- briefed me on a job. I remember leaving, and running into someone before-” your eyes waver back and forth not blinking from the ceiling.

“I was ambushed where i was staying. Threw me around a bit” you exhale.

“A bit? ‘Ika, you really took it the other day”.

You shoot him a look of concern

“The other day?”

Thorn pulls back to straighten up with a saddened look forming on his face, shifting in his armor.

“It’s been 3 days, Aev. it’s 2100 hours right now” he cuts off letting you take in the information.

“im sorry to push but-

do you remember why they attacked you?”

Breaking your staring, you shift your eyes down for a moment hesitant to admit, your thoughts coming rushing in at once,

“they found out i was taking undercover bounties from the guard. And it was taking away from their pay outs.”

Changing his weight from one foot to the other, thorn lets out a heavy sigh now rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’ll have to discuss this with him, he’s not happy.”

You frown at Thorn, “Fox? Where is he?”

He freezes for a moment contemplating his answer, “The commander has been busy working more than as usual, he’s had me on your watch when he can’t. He’s stopped by every day, but you’re under an alias at the moment-”

thorn cutting out as the door slides open with heavy boots approaching closer.

“Thorn, out. I need to talk to her.”

[ghostymarni]

Aev flirts with her droid companion when drunk, KX (unofficial name) accepts it.

FLIRTY WARNING

DROID CRUSH WARNING

TW soft stuff, but suggestive

I can’t get over the personality concept that KX becomes overly protective, being a prototype rogue enforcer droid, and accepted by Aev.

And when they finally meet in story, he’s always deflecting comms from fox, trying to keep him away.

[ghostymarni]

A Job

TW: smoking, drinking, aggressive behavior, nothing harmful.

Aev - Mandalorian OC/reader chapter 1

It’s close to 0100 hours into the new day, and it’s been quite a few long rotations since you’ve had any time to yourself between free stay jobs, one night hotels, and high-end client gigs. you’re sitting in your half civilian clothes, laid out in a cantina booth.

Coruscant is your favorite city, easiest for jobs, and most comforting on the vas array of those that want to disappear in a crowd. You just wanted to blend in tonight, despite your bucket always giving you away.

Bucket on the table close to you, next to a few empty cocktail glasses. Music played a shifting beat, as the half dark ambiance seemed to liven up with another wave of patrons entering the cantina.

Shifting, checking the blaster on your hip was on standby, feet propped up on the stool, on the edge of the booth. You’ve had enough big jobs and savings as of late, you needed a night out for the change of pace.

The atmosphere of the musky colored neons, entertaining music, and mismatched crowd helped you feel a little more at ease knowing no one really cared about anyone else.

Crossing your legs you take a moment to let your head fall back on the seat, arms stretched out in a lazy T, with a drink in your hand. “I hope I don’t get another big job for at least a rotation. I need a whole bacta tank vacation after that last one-“. Your muscles twitching as a reminder of the physcial strain you keep doing to yourself.

Lifting your head up to scan the crowd, your buzz was finally starting to kick in good, and you honestly were contemplating getting trashed. Of course if it weren’t for the thought of a hangover the next morning, stopping you.

You were annoyed the last client lied about the gig, it was more dangerous than what was put out, but the positive is that they paid you triple for doing it anyway.

Kriff, it’s exhausting sometimes. All the time, honestly.

You wave down a server droid for a refill, and throw a few credits towards the sleeze selling death sticks. You grab the pack, hard tapping it on your palm, taking one out before tossing the pack onto the table. Slipping the death stick into the corner of your mouth in a soft hold.

Breaking eye contact with the crowd you shift your gaze down to check your pack, for something to light it with.

Sparks ignite above you, holding a steady flame.

“I didn’t take you for the smoking type” the low half growling voice called at you.

You paused your self patted search, half responding before looking up, “I didn’t think you cared-“, an irritated smirk now on your face, staring back at the silhouette.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your honored presence? I’m surprised one of your men didn’t come in your stead.”

He stands silent, leaning forward to ignite your death stick. Without hesitation you calmly comply.

Retreating your legs from the stool to half stand, meeting him halfway over the table for the light. His bright red bracers and gloved hands quickly fading as the fire closed out. You return your thanks retreating with an exaggerated large hit, slowly exhaling the smoke making a brief barrier.

“How’d you know I was here?” taking a small sharp drag, returning to your laid out pose across the seat in your exhale.

“I always know where you are, Aev.” he rumbles. pocketing the lighter.

“I thought you were mad at me” you half laugh holding the death stick in between your fingers.

The service droid returns with your 5th cocktail, calling out the cost. Breaking the silence you remove your feet from the stool again to simultaneously pay the droid and grab the drink. Droid rolling away right after.

“You’re done for the night.” His tone annoyed and demanding. “Why?” you short reply.

Slightly pausing but not giving him a chance to rebuttal, “I’ve put off nights like this for 87 rotations, I’ve been busy. Mind you- nearly half of those jobs were from you.”

“You’re suited for another off the record job. I don’t need you intoxicated for it.” He briefs you, “it’s confidential, that’s why I’m here myself.”

“Kriff, Fox, I finally have a night off and you’re giving me kark for it” you jest, throwing back your cocktail. Fox instinctively reaches for your wrist mid drink, stopping you from downing the whole cocktail.

“I said- you’re done.” He’s back in your proximity, not letting you go.

His bucket, now “face” to face with you, leaning over the table of smoke, splashed cocktail half dripping down your hand. You can feel his snarl through his auto tuned breathing, his shoulders rising and falling hinting he had no patience to begin with.

You stare back slightly intimated of the sudden loss of space between you, quick shifting to your buzzed sarcasm.

“And here I hoped you’ve missed me as much as I missed you, commander. Nice to know you don’t.” you’re attempting to pull your hand out of his grip. Trying to convince him you don’t care, shifting your gaze to your half empty glass.

His gloved hand tightening around your leather sleeve. You can practically imagine the fury on his face, mentally seeing his eyes narrowing at your defiance.

With his opposite hand, he reaches for your pinned grip on the glass and death stick. Tossing the stick on the floor, crushing it with a quick stomp and twist. Following with the removal of the glass, placing it hard on the table.

The cocktail starts to hit, and your i-don’t-care demeanor begins to faulter, your muscles caving into his unforgiving grip. Shoulders slightly dropping, body leaning towards his over the table.

“Kark, Fox! When did it matter what I do. You don’t care! I’m just a pawn!”

Ignoring you, he grabs your bucket and pulls you from the booth, not breaking the contact on your wrist.

Weaving in and out of the crowd exiting the cantina, you slur a whined shout at the back of him “F-fox your grip- you’re hurting me”.

You’re not really sure if heard you despite the midnight cantina banters, so you’re shifting into a hard buzzed attempt to pry his fingers away. Making it outside and around the corner he whips you against the cold night’s alley wall.

“What is wrong with-“ you’re cut off half bouncing back off the wall from the motion, reaching for your wrist in a self comfort caress. Fox quick shifts in front of you with his hand slammed against your head making sure you don’t run, shoving your bucket into your hands with his other.

Your vision is wobbly and by the time you register what happened, looking up into his bucket visor inches from you, he huffs, “you know that’s not true.”

Your eyes are shifting trying to focus on him behind his visor. Your heart starts to race, not just from the drinks, but also from his terrible way of telling you he cares.

“You didn’t have to throw me” you finally say. “You didn’t need to defy me” he responds coldly.

A hard pout shifts on your face with redness on your cheeks. he hasn’t broken the stiff space between you, until you push him back on his red and white plastoid chest so you can straighten up.

You’re now rubbing the back of your head that hit the wall. “You didn’t even give me time to hit the refresher before we left.”

“Don’t start” he shifts crossing his arms, bucket still staring you down.

“So what’s so important you needed me directly? Outside of your horrible way to tell me you’re not mad at me anymore” you shift your bucket under an arm.

“It’s a classified briefing I need to detail you the day of. I am giving you a warning for two days from now to prepare.”

“Well that’s not telling me anything.” Rolling your eyes at the lack of information. He finally moves from his statuesque pose and turns his bucket facing the crowd outside the alley. “Just rest up and stock up on your rations. I’ll contact you.” He rumbles.

“Fine. thanks for the heads up I guess.” You see him shifting ready to walk off.

Contemplating going back into the cantina right after, you’ve moved your bucket to both your hands in front of you; staring down at the old paint job and scuff marks. he quickly turns on his heel to speak to you.

Your newly hit-drunk response time shifts in a yelped surprise when he’s back in front of you, face to face, “can you stop that???” You yell at him, inches away from you.

He snorts a tuned chuckle, “there’s a delivery of new ships docking today at 0900 off the east side. Some of them seem your style.” He grabs the bucket from your hands, and places it on your head. Hands not moving from the sides.

“Don’t go back into the cantina”. He growls, shifting from formal to irritation again, staring down at you.

If he didn’t put the bucket on you, you’re sure he’d see your flustered red face agape. Not just from him reading your thoughts, but once again cutting off your train of thought being so close.

He lets go of your bucket, taking a few steps into the edge of the alley, scanning before he leaves.

“I’ll do what I want on my time off” you slurr back under your bucket. Crossing your arms and shifting your weight to one side to a drunk sassy stance.

“No you won’t” he plays, stepping into the crowd. The red and white instantly disappearing into the colored tinted night crowd.

“The kriff I wont-“ you mockingly yell back at him.

Instantly your comms go off “-remember I have eyes on you at all times” you practically jolt from the growl in your ears, buzz still holding over you. “go back and find out.” The comms click off

“Kriff’n w-womp rat-“ you studder to your self.

“I heard that” the comms click on and off again.

You yell in frustration throwing your hands to your sides feeling like you’re being babysat.

only to leave the alley and instantly see a set of Coruscant Guard troopers watching your move. One shakes their head knowing what you want to do; It’s not like you have a drinking record, but clearly Fox knows where your head is at tonight. You also can’t help that he’s doing this cause he cares, In his own protocol way.

You drop your head down in defeat for a moment, shaking your head shifting your focus to the direction of where you’re staying for the night. “Fine! You win, SIR” the alcohol shifting your tone to a tantrum tone.

“-good girl” the comms click on and off again.

You stop responding knowing he’s listening but keeping his comms in a one way communication. Your mouth twists in a defeated face of annoyance.

Sauntering your late night walk back to your nights stay taking your time getting there, you fumble some credits in your pocket. Rolling them in between your fingers.

Your thoughts shift quickly considering that you might find a ship you like. You’ve saved enough for a while to find something, and by Fox’s tone there could be one that fits the qualifications.

You miss having your own ship and space to come back to without looking more over your shoulder than usual. you miss your droid companion too. It’s been lonely even with all the gigs.

You take a brief stumble into an armored shoulder, apologizing for the impact. Too drunk to care or even see who it was, you turn into a few corners so no one can follow you to the backside of your stay. Your path changing every night.

You unlock the door and instantly feel your wobbly senses jump as the door slides open. your reflexes drop your antenna scanner fast to see a thermal body sitting in the corner, a leg half crossed the other in the free chair across the room.

Reaching for your blaster, they growl,

“-took you long enough”.