Log:AAA Freight: Tell the Story Right
It's a lot of fun being a convalescing Hutt. True, it's fun to be a Hutt generally, with the vast wealth and equally vast stables full of Involuntary Labor. But there's just something special about the way one is treated when he's survived a near-fatal blaster wound to the torso. It almost makes it worth suffering a near-fatal blaster wound to the torso.
Reclining on a large, industrial-grade metal slab, the King of Smugglers looks as if he's recovered for the most part. At least he's able to keep his boozeslop down, and doesn't wince when he makes overly dramatic gestures in the middle of telling one of his Very Accurate Stories. There's still some bandaging around his torso, but much less of it before. He probably doesn't actually need to stay on a large, industrial-grade metal slab anymore and be waited on hand and tail by the Involuntary Labor. But... even Rugged Space Cowboys like to be pampered from time to time.
"And then he was like 'Oh no! It's THE MASKED OUTLAW!' Ha ha HA! No idea it was ME! So I says to him 'No... I ain't The Masked Outlaw... I'm just here to fix yer TERLIT!"
Saturi is resting amongst a group of gentle 'folk' listening to Mak's VERY ACCURATE depiction of the event. She does her best to try to fit in, seemingly engaged with every exaggerated detail. A lighthearted laugh bursts from her mouth at his recounting of the 'Masked Outlaw's' unveiling. "It's true." The Pantoran affirms from her seat, motioning up at the industrial slab. "I was not onboard, but the boarding party told the tale..." Golden eyes look to the Hutt, then to the small gathering of 'folk' and 'cattle'. "Believe it or not. He's being modest."
A wink is shot to the King of Smugglers. "The ship's captain was twice as surprised and ten times as afraid." A sly grin is produced. "Not to diminish the story...sometimes even words cannot describe the radiance of a hero's adventure."
A fresh bucket of boozeslop is set before the Poor Recovering Hutt, and he greedily picks it up, dumping it directly down his gaping maw. The empty bucket is dropped with a loud 'KLANG!' and Mak wipes the leftover greenish mixture of boozeslop, saliva, and 'Hutt Slime' from his mouth with his bare arm.
This makes the ladies all a-quiver with erotic excitement. Or maybe it's disgust, Mak doesn't really pay much attention to the different expressions bipeds make.
"See? This'un here knows." In case anyone in the audience is confused who 'this un' is, he points one of his pudgy hands in the rough direction of Saturi.
"Why, she was the dagblasted LINCHPIN of the job, did some FANCY flyin'... real fancy." His broad smile turns slightly critical, however.
"Dockin' was a li'l rough... but hey... I've had rougher!"
It's disgust, definitely disgust.
A glance is given to the the bucket as she receives a fair bit of her own exaggerated admiration. Her forehead scrunches together as she thinks to herself for a moment. Hints of remorse cross her mind as her conflicted situation starts to stir about. The blue woman hasn't had anyone coat her in praise for a /long/ while...and the place she least expected it from...well...a Hutt.
"I...I never had too dock to another ship that quickly before." The Pantoran says, continuing to stare at the bucket rather than to Mak or the crowd. "And...calling the helm work fancy is...stretching it." She continues with a modest attitude.
The Hutt is silent for a couple of seconds, looking at the blue woman with something very much like confusion in those enormous, bulbous yellow eyes of his. It's probably just as difficult for bipeds to tell what a Hutt is thinking as it is the other way around, but if the look on Mak's face is any indication, he's... displeased.
Yes, displeased seems to cover it.
"Well sheeeit... that ain't the way... I mean... hell... I know a LOT of maneuvers..." An awkward tension begins to ripple through the Involuntary Labor which makes up a significant portion of the attendants. A tension that's virtually palpable.
Mak's face contorts a bit, looking almost as if he's gassy, or possibly deep in thought.
"DAGNABBIT! The hell kind of way to tell a story is THAT!? You didn't even tell 'em about the MANEUVERS!"
He points to the space in front of him on the giant, industrial metal loading sled that's been serving as his makeshift hospital bed. Instinctively, one of the nearby Involuntary Laborers turns over the boozeslop bucket, forming... some sort of stool.
"Here, li'l Asteroid Princess! Come on up here and tell the story RIGHT!"
Saturi is caught off guard with the sudden change in Mak's tone, as well as the request for a speech before all the folk. Is it suddenly warmer than usual? The woman snaps her gaze up to the sled, then the crowd.
"My mistake." She responds with a false smile, trying to appear blessed by this public speaking opportunity. "Though. I doubt I could write a best-seller as good as yours." It's a compliment as well as an attempt to break ice with the gathering of strangers.
Golden eyes glance to the violated bucket ...the object the Involuntary Labour was willing to touch. Yeah...no. Not going to happen. Instead of ruining her handcrafted clothing by soaking it in remnant alcohol and half-dried mucous, the woman steps up to the now overturned bucket and places her left foot on it.
The Asteroid Princess leans over her knee, trying to strike a pose one might find a 'cattle rancher' in to tell a tall tale. Her gaze washes over the small group below her and the Hutt. "You see. What I meant..." A hand goes to her heart. "...was that the stretch wasn't in my favour. You see...whilst the...the...Masked Bandit here was busy striking fear in that cowardly captain. I. The Mining Queen. Was busy piloting our plans to success."
A sidelong glance for approval is cast back at the Hutt. "You should have seen it. After an expert docking maneuver...rough -only- because the dastardly disabled ship rocked at the last second...trying to use the last bit of thrusters escape I might add." A snicker is given, as she feels ridiculous. To the crowd, she may just seem to be enjoying the tale herself. "As I was saying." A pause. "After the docking, I pulled Big Mama away fastest you've ever seen it. Started to chase down that scaredy escort ship."
Lurking behind her like a giant misshapen pile of garbage wrapped in a bag that's just a bit too small, Mak looks down at her with those bloodshot yellow eyes practically bulging out of his... whatever Hutts have instead of an actual skull. But as the story begins to flow, his expression relaxes, and softens, and his body seems to collapse on itself slightly as if he's no longer exerting effort to remain rigid.
He gestures to a member of the Involuntary Labor class, an unmistakeable 'bring me more boozeslop, a lot more' gesture which mostly consists of putting his hands side by side as if he was holding an invisible bucket and bringing the invisible bucket up to his face hole. The Involuntary Labor begin scurrying to get more booze and slop mixed together in a bucket, which is really the only way to keep Mak from getting either hungry or sober, which usually results in someone being consumed whole or used as target practice.
"Ha HA! Tell 'em how many of 'em there was! And tell 'em about the MANEUVERS!" Clearly, Mak is enjoying this version of the story much more, laid out on the metal slab like a turd that somehow never quite seems to dry out.
"Oh. The Maneuvers." Saturi acts as if she had forgotten to elaborate on them. "So, here we are trying to catch that Scaredy Escort...so scared it already had started running the moment we arrived.../way/ to far away for the average pilot to catch." Her right hand crosses over to show everyone her dress's left sleeve. "I had a fancy trick or two. All up my sleeve." Two blue hands help provide visual representation of the Big Mama and Remnant Escort. "So. This is us, this is them." The Big Mama starts to creep up as a grossly inaccurate representation of an intercept course is depicted with her hand puppets. "Big Mama catches up after a fancy turn to starboard and an /improvised/ boost to the throttle."
"That's when I looked over to my trusty co-pilot...Stoneface." A look is given as the slaves provide Mak with his renewed drink. "A woman so deadly and heartless that she only wears a stone cold look. A real killer." She does her best to make Evie sound less devastated and more heartless.
"She helps relay the message to the gunners to start firing...cold hearted efficiency. All business." The blue woman makes a few blaster noises with her mouth, feeling even more ridiculous. "As the lasers get going, that Scaredy wouldn't hold still...so with my -expert- skill, I kept it to port as we sped along at breakneck speed." Golden eyes look to the crowd as she gloats. "I made the gunner's job easy. Easy as it got, like shooting...shooting really easy."
Hutts have a hard time getting their hands much higher than the top of their heads. But Mak has managed to remove his wide-brimmed cattle rancher's hat, and is holding it dramatically aloft to convey his excitement.
"Ha ha HAAAA! And that's when I fought my way up to the bridge through... oh hell... must've been twenty, maybe twenty-TWO of 'em! Trandoshans, Houks, Dowutins! There was even a HERGLIC between me and the bridge, but you know how I get when I've a mind to be somewhere!"
The audience, mostly made up of Involuntary Labor, begins to cheer enthusiastically. Occasionally they're right on cue, but for the most part their cheers come at random times. They're not professional encouragers, after all.
"Got up there, and I said to my buddy Kryll, I said 'I'm gonna turn this truck around, and give 'em the ol' ZERGNUX CITY SHUFFLE!' Ha ha harrrr!"
The Involuntary Labor have by this point returned with Mak's next bucket of boozeslop, which he greedily dumps down his throat with about as much ceremony as your average biped reserves for a shot of really cheap whiskey.