Log:Another Rainy Interlude at the Blue Light

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Another Rainy Interlude at the Blue Light

OOC Date: April 23, 2017
Location: The Blue Light
Participants: Trillian Taim, Rheisa Dirleel

It's another rainy afternoon at The Blue Light. Trillian wipes off another table, and stretches her arms above her head. It was still early enough that the only patrons were either regulars, or people needing to get out of the torrential downpour for a bit. She slings the bar towel over her shoulder, and collects some more empty glasses and balances it carefully on her drink tray before weaving her way through the mostly empty tables to the bar.

Enter in a pair that represent the latter demographic, or something else entirely.

The unmistakable sound of protocol droid announces its distress with too chipper a tone to suit its mood as a flash of lightning illuminates the opening doorway. "I cannot help but to feel as though you are trying to punish me for an offense," notates the chrome colored shadow as it toddles in after its mistress, burdened with a substantially sized package held between shiny arms. "Surely you recall my poor endurance as a laborer," the droid goes on mildly while pivoting its head this way and that to survey the interior. "Perhaps if you embarked on fewer business outings of that nature, you would find yourself in better health."

"Te'aan d'nah," the Togruta chides softly and pulls the swaddle of fabric down off her montrals with her left hand. She leads Kee'tch'ka past the staircase and through the center smattering of tables towards the bar.

Trillian jumps slightly as the oddly matched pair enters the Blue Light. No matter how often it happened, it always took her a bit to calm herself in the face of strangers. But it was getting better at least. At least Hex didn't need to peel her off the ceiling anymore when a patron ordered a drink. She took a deep breath, straightened her apron and put on her best, brave smile before stepping forward.

"Um... welcome to the Blue Light," Trillian mumbles in a soft voice. Not sure if she was heard or not, she clears her throat before continuing. "um... ahem... um... would you like to take a seat? May I take your order please?"

"Nah," Rheisa declines softly. She bellies up to the bar just shy of bumping it with her bondaged arm and gestures aside at the droid. "Am come to deliver this. One of kitchen workers hear from Siya the piece I make for her," explains the woman through thickly accented 'Basic'. "Leave request with Kee'tch'ka, two" the number '2' sign flashes from her left hand "week ago. It is done."

"Ah, good afternoon, Miss!" Kee'tch'ka chirps politely to the shy human across the counter. It's a struggle, its torso arcing backward while arms mechanically lifting this way and that until it succeeds in thumping the package down atop the bar. "I am Kee'tch'ka, human cyborg relations, personal assistant to Mistress Dirleel at the Muse Art Gallery. We have come to deliver a commissioned artwork for one Mr. Bodi ....Mezrack?" It confers with its memory bank. "Yes. Mr Mezrack. Secondary chef, under employ of the Blue Light."

"um... oh... um..." frets Trillian. In the few days that she has been under the employ of Hex, there had been the occasional strange delivery of packages, parcels, or ... conversations hastily whispered in the darker corners of the Blue Light. Trillian never quite knew what to do or how to act in those situations. Usually, the guest would be whisked away by Hex or graciously hosted in a private booth by the Lady Kasia. Usually, Trillian would then just have to bring over whatever drink was ordered.

"oh... um... I see. Should... should I go in the back and get him? Could you please wait here for a minute?" Trillian bows slightly and turns to go into the kitchen entrance. She peers over her shoulder again at the newcomers and tries to flash a confident smile, but it looks more like a terrified grimace. Quickly, she scurries into the back, searching for Bodi Mezrack.

The 'gruta and droid exchange glances with one another - or rather, Rheisa looks to the droid and it simply snaps to attention readied for the next command. Rheisa opts to sit on a stool after all, hiking just one buttock onto the seat while they wait.

Well damn. As luck would have it for poor Trillian, The Ashkuris are busied with one of their other enterprises - or simply indisposed back at the hangar. Second-string cook Bodi has not started his shift yet....or is late. Either case, no one's seen the beefy Besalisk come in yet.

Trillian hesitates before returning to the main room. She had run all over the small kitchen, dodging the other workers who were busily preparing for the dinner rush. They had all shook their heads when Trillian had asked about the Mr. Mezrack, or when he was due in. Trillian quailed about having to go out and tell the guests that he wasn't there. Peeking through the grimy glass in the kitchen door, she could see the strikingly beautiful Togruta lounging on a seat with the shiny protocol droid. Swallowing, she tried to remember the hasty lessons that Hex was determined to teach her about confidence... albeit, while he was in one of his more jovial, drunken moods.

"Remember, ai'jou. Fighting spirit! Be confident, step with authority! Smile, ka?" Hex had told her, gesticulating wildly with a cigarette in one hand, and sloshing most of a decidedly blue-hued beverage in the other. "... oh, and if they give you any lip, you kick them in a vulnerable spot and run for cover... Here, let's practice that. Tarion! Come over, yuja! I have need of your special talents. Ok, little one. Kick him. Hard."

Trillian shook her head from her reverie, and balls up her fists and repeats to herself, "Confidence. Confidence!" She nods her head and steps out into the main room again, with a polite smile pasted on her face. She rounds the corner and stands before the Togruta female and bows apologetically. "um... I'm sorry. Mr. Mezrack isn't... isn't here yet. But he will be later. I'm sorry... Would you like to wait? I could bring you a menu? Or I can leave him a message. Who might I tell him is looking for him?"

Nervous Trillian may find relief in her discovery that no, the expectant eyes tracking her emergence from the kitchen do NOT launch plasma beams in response to the report that her client is, evidently, nowhere to be found. Instead, her neutral line of lip curls gently in a corner and she emits a tired sigh. The various trinkets and baubles strung along her headdress clatter together quietly as her head bobs into a nod and gaze searches for inspiration elsewhere while she considers the option.

"I will leave here, for him," Rheisa decides, "if he do not come by time I have finished one drink." Flashsign #1. In case everyone in this galaxy needs a visual aid when counting. "Water, please." Pearly fangs shine through as she spreads her sleepy smile into a more empowered grin. Water. Living life dangerously... "Can tell him is from the Muse." Her left hand gestures again, this time back towards the exit while she indicates something beyond its borders.

"Yes ma'am. Right away," says Trillian with some relief and goes to fill a glass for the lady. She quickly and efficiently fills the glass and brings it back to her, placing it carefully in front of her and making sure she has a beverage napkin.

"If you need anything else, please let us know," she says, turning to also include the protocol droid. Nodding, she is about to turn back to wiping down tables, when she suddenly remembers something the protocol droid had said. Turning back to the lady, she appraises her again with a puzzled look. "um... I'm sorry to interrupt again... but um... Mr. Kee'tch'ka said you are Mistress Dirleel? Of the Muse Art Gallery? I wandered into your gallery before. It's quite beautiful."

Rheisa replies by way of a lilting 'thrum' of a sound around the lip of her tipped glass. *Slurp* "Thank," she dips her chin and directs a gracious nod at the 'tender. "Nar Shaddaa is an ugly place with little soul," the artist murmurs matter-of-factly. "When I first come, I meet Qo and Veela and they is part of art com-mun-ity. Good peoples, with beautiful soul. I stay long time with them, then the Yume brothers ask me work Muse, for them. I did. When they disappear, it belongs now to me. I keep it place of peace - important much in this time of war. Do not need to buy, to come inside. Do not need to drrress nice. Only, no weapons." Her index finger waggles the importance of this rule before she takes another sip.

"How long you have been working here?" She queries, eyes narrowing in thoughtful appraisal of the girl. Kee'tch'ka just keeps quiet, for now. He remains standing, arms held slightly at the ready to flag anyone down as needed for his mistress' benefit.

"um... oh," Trillian starts to answer, surprised, as always, that anybody would take interest in her. "Not long. I haven't been planetside for very long. I came in a couple of days ago on a freighter run... but they abandoned me here... not sure why... I... I would have been in a lot of trouble if not for Mr. Hex and Ms. Kasia. They rescued me... gave me a place to stay and a job."

Trillian's expression is one of gratitude and relief when talking about the Askuris. She smiles warmly at Mistress Dirleel. "And I think that Nar Shaddaa has more soul than it seems. It's just... deep... and complicated... kind of like people... There's beauty in everything... you just have to look for it...” Trillian looks embarassed by the last statement, apologizing profusely. "sorry... I'm sorry... That probably doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just blurt things out. I hope I didn't offend..."

"There may be pretty shapes in the canyons," Rheisa almost concedes, "/a/ garden, where life is made to grrrow inside the safe bubble of Corrrrrellian district," but then wrinkles her nose, "but is a dead moon, almost. I feel it where ever I go," counters the Togruta with a sad smile. "It is known. There are good peoples to be found, yes, under all the bad, all the blood. The cries of the dead ones linger, lost, where they have fallen unjustly. There is anger here. Fear. The white masks (FO, haha) and the greedy pockets of the Hutts and those who would serve him," Her head wavers with an uncertain nod, eyes closing as she settles further back on the stool to pick both feet up and curl bare toes around the lowest rung. "Such things kill the spirit of a place. Even the water from the skies is poison, when it falls. That is why the Muse, the garden, the Circus, maybe the Blue Light...are important here. To create places where life still can exist. Where peoples can exist. Inside." One finger taps through the layers of sling strapping to her chest.

She takes a third, hastier sip in attempts to quell a sudden incoming bout of COUGHHACK but succeeds only in arming that cough with a watery aresenal. She mostly catches it in palm, headtails contracting to lay flatter against her skull, protectively over shoulders. "Am sorry," she wheezes and tries to clear her chest. Then, in attempts to reroute the conversation, she adds "Heksash'kuri is good persons to know, but I am sorry you were lost here. Someone lose me, too, much time ago. For many days I think maybe they come back to look, but...never see that ship again." Wheeze. *Sip*

Trillian starts in concern as Rheisa coughs. She immediately hands over a small stack of napkins as her brows furrow. As the lady apologizes, Trillian still looks on with worry. She had been mesmerized by Rheisa's description of Nar Shaddaa. Without realizing, her eyes had started to well with tears as a rush of emotions ran through her. Trillian nodded as the Togruta finished her story. They sat in amicable silence for a minute before Trillian felt the need to tell her story.

"um... I... I think I was probably better off..." Trillian starts lamely. She swallows and then continues when she realizes that Rheisa isn't going to stop her. "I hired on with ... um... less... savory... characters. I guess. I... sometimes I have trouble reading people... 'specially strangers... Which... which isn't a great trait for a pilot, I guess." Trillian looked particularly glum at that statement. She sighed and slumped her shoulders.

"The captain wasn't so nice... But I needed the credits. So I helped co-pilot his freighter out here. Then they sent me off to buy supplies... but I got lost... the directions they gave me to the dealer didn't seem to be right... or maybe I read them wrong... and when I got back to the spaceport, the dockmaster told me that they had already left. I basically had the clothes on my back... and no credits to my name..." Trillian explained sadly. She looks as if she's about to cry again, but she a fierce look flashes across her face before she looks up. "... oh... I'm sorry. That doesn't... I mean... I'm not... I'm... I'm not a charity case!"

Well, though most of the water wound up in lap, not mouth, Rheisa's drink is finished....now. She slides off the stool stiffly and flexes her right knee a few times to loosen it up while reaching to grab the toddler-sized package and sliiiiide it across to Trillian. It's heavy. "Nor was I," she offers the upset human a little wink from around the bulk of delivery. (She totally was tho) "You will learn to see the spirit in others' eyes. You will learn, or you will not survive the predators of Smugglers' Moon for long. But do not worry. You work now for the rrright peoples. I know." And then she's gone.

Trillian stands as the Togruta lady finishes her drink and makes to graciously exit. She feels an inexplicable sadness, but it's fleeting and before long Trillian forgets even that sensation. Nodding solemnly in return, Trillian collects the finished glass and places it with the other glasses to be washed. She stares at the door long after Rheisa and her droid exit, before shaking her head and going back to wiping down tables. She couldn't help but feel that she had met an extraordinary person. Strange... seems that she's been doing a lot of that since falling in with Mr. Hex and Ms. Kasia. Trillian scrubbed a particularly stubborn spot briskly before realizing that she actually was starting to feel excited about that.